Asou Akiya was summoned away by Yaga Masamichi for special training.
The classroom had fallen into self-study mode. Ieiri Shoko leafed through a cosmetics magazine in peaceful idleness while her two male classmates, unable to sit still, slipped out to buy drinks. They strolled along the corridor, sipping and discussing the once-a-year Sister-School Exchange Event.
Geto Suguru spoke first. "Yaga-sensei said there were no students last year, so Tokyo forfeited by default and Kyoto won without a fight."
Gojo shaded his eyes against the sun. "Nothing we can do about that. Having few people is normal."
Tokyo Jujutsu High could never match Kyoto's student numbers. Sorcerers born into the great clans almost always chose the Kyoto campus.
A young, energetic new school could never rival the deep-rooted prestige of the ancient one.
"Yaga-sensei also said the Exchange Event lasts two days," Geto continued, already planning ahead. "First day is the team competition, second day is the individual match. I'm not worried about the team round. We work well together. Protecting Asou while fighting should be easy. But Asou warned me not to underestimate anyone from the Three Great Families. He thinks I still have weaknesses that haven't been fixed. Will we be facing anyone from the clans? How many first-grade students do the Three Great Families even have at our age?"
Gojo clicked his tongue, yet the lone wolf in him did not deny the word "protecting" when it came to Asou.
"You're giving those guys way too much credit."
If weird-bangs opened his mouth in front of the rotting elders, half of them would probably die of shock on the spot. Several first-grade students on their level?
"There aren't any."
Gojo answered the second question first, then flipped to the first. "People from the Three Great Families have no real reason to enrol in Jujutsu High. It's entirely up to their mood. When their sorcerer rank is certified, it carries a special prefix: 'Special Grade 2,' 'Special Grade 3,' and so on. We don't even need to think about Kyoto's roster—"
"Because there won't be a single opponent worth fighting."
"We are the strongest."
Gojo drained his ice-cold cola in one long pull, and the casual declaration struck Geto Suguru like a bell in the chest.
Geto stopped walking. He stared at the white-haired boy silhouetted against the blazing sun, every trace of past resentment dissolving in that moment.
They were the strongest.
He was not fighting alone in this world.
Asou had been right again. He could not refuse the friendship Gojo Satoru offered.
Fifteen-year-old first-grade sorcerer Geto Suguru felt his heart surge, almost ready to bow his head in surrender right then and there, grateful beyond words that Gojo remained blissfully unaware of how firmly he had once told Asou, "We can never be friends."
He swallowed the shame, crushed the empty can in his fist, and hurled it into the bin with unnecessary force before hurrying to catch up with the white-haired boy already several strides ahead.
"Want to go watch Asou's special training?" Geto offered, searching for any excuse to keep the moment alive.
"No point," Gojo answered without breaking stride. "I already saw. Yaga's teaching him kendo."
"Kendo!" Geto's mood shot upward. One hand slid casually into his pocket while the other shot out and seized Gojo's wrist. Limitless flickered on for a fraction of a second, just long enough to let the touch register, then shut off again, allowing Geto to tug his classmate along without resistance.
Gojo glanced at the suddenly enthusiastic weird-bangs in mild confusion, but Geto was already steering them toward the training field, words tumbling out. "I've never seen a sorcerer who uses a sword. I had no idea Yaga-sensei was hiding that skill. Come on, let's go watch!"
The memory of how perfectly they had ganged up on Asou during the Yamanote Line game flashed across Gojo's mind and brought an involuntary grin to his face.
He finally recognised the fizzy, weightless feeling bubbling inside his chest for what it was: happiness.
Being able to come to school really was the best thing ever.
Gojo drawled, "Planning to steal some moves, weird-bangs? Yaga's kendo is pretty mediocre. They're beginner level at best."
Geto ignored the jab and kept walking, cheeks flushed from the sun.
[Asou, you'll understand, right? It's definitely not Gojo's strength I'm drawn to; it's the person himself. I promised you we'd turn him into an idiot together and cure that arrogant streak of his.]
On the training field, Asou Akiya remained blissfully unaware of the shift in his two classmates. He gripped a real sword for the first time, face twisted in dismay as he sparred with Yaga Masamichi. "Yaga-sensei, shouldn't we start with how to hold the sword and basic swings?"
Yaga shot the idea down with a single sentence. "I'm the teacher here!"
Asou poured cursed energy into his palms just to keep the blade from flying out of his hands.
In Japan, sword and blade were one and the same.
"Traditional kendo exists to kill," Yaga explained in his own blunt way, ignoring long-term elegance. "Your enemies won't always be human. I'm teaching you how to get strong fast: how to block, how to survive. If you fall in love with the art later, find a proper master and study seriously then."
Asou Akiya had, by pure chance, become the "Okkotsu Yuta" of a crash-course kendo class.
Only instead of Zenin Maki, his instructor was a grade 1 sorcerer famous for his fists: Yaga Masamichi.
Okkotsu Yuta had transformed in three months and swung a sword like he was born to it. Asou grimly estimated that, at his current half-baked level, three years might still be optimistic.
Yaga Masamichi read the doubt on his student's face. He dropped his stance low, then brought the wooden blade down in a single, merciless vertical cut. Asou's expression drained of colour; veins bulged along his forearms as he barely parried the strike, the shock splitting the webbing between thumb and forefinger.
Pain flared, yet Asou felt none of it. He raised the sword again, throwing his whole body into a desperate counter-slash.
There was only one thought in his head.
Just like in a video game. Even if I'm going to lose, I'll take at least one pixel of the boss's health bar with me!
"That's it!"
Yaga's roar shook the air as he imposed his fist-fighting philosophy onto swordsmanship. "Wound the enemy, whether with your knuckles or with steel!"
From a safe distance, Gojo Satoru, the heir to centuries of clan sword arts pointed and smirked. "In the end he's still just punching with a stick."
Geto tried to defend their teacher. "It… kind of makes sense."
Gojo snorted. "I've never formally studied swordsmanship, but I've watched the real masters among sorcerers. New Shadow Style: Simple Domain combined with kenjutsu is the ultimate pairing. The binding vow is that both feet must remain on the ground. Once mastered, the instant the blade is drawn the strike carries an infallible hit property. The entire curriculum is built around one lethal cut."
Geto had always wanted to ask. "So what exactly is New Shadow Style: Simple Domain?"
Gojo rattled off textbook knowledge without pause, hands in his pockets, tone bored but precise.
Geto's head spun by the end. "So… the purpose is to counter Domain Expansion? All those heavy restrictions are just a bonus, and the guaranteed-hit effect is extra?"
Gojo gave a lazy shrug. "More than that. It's a mandatory curriculum for anyone born into the main branch of the Three Great Families."
He continued, voice suddenly serious. "Asou mentioned it to you, didn't he? 'A grade 1 sorcerer has a chance to escape a special-grade cursed spirit with his life. A truly strong grade 1 can even exorcise one and keep surviving long-term in this world.'"
"But he didn't tell you the full truth. To be more accurate, it's a grade 1 sorcerer who has mastered the New Shadow Style Simple Domain that has the chance to walk away alive."
"The moment an enemy deploys their Domain Expansion and traps you inside a sure-hit lethal zone, survival is almost impossible. But the instant you erect your own Simple Domain, the two fields refuse to overlap. That brief mutual exclusion is the golden window to escape with your life.":
"I'm not bragging. It's just the truth."
"I learned it ages ago and never actually used it, but it's nice to have in my back pocket. You should pick it up too."
Gojo Satoru rarely thought this far ahead for anyone else. It was Asou Akiya who had planted the seed.
"Don't commoner sorcerers know this technique?"
"The price to learn it isn't even that high."
"For you especially, the rotting elders place a lot of value on the potential of a cursed-spirit manipulator."
Whenever Gojo returned to the family estate, the elders always probed, some openly, some slyly, about the cursed-spirit manipulator. The Gojo clan fully supported him befriending Geto Suguru. No one wanted a future special-grade sorcerer as an enemy.
Gojo found the meddling annoying, yet he was perfectly willing to hand Geto a direct path to greater power.
Geto felt his eyes sting again at the blunt, sincere offer of friendship.
Ah, this…
"Gojo! Geto! Did you two ditch Ieiri again and forget about the self-study period?!"
Yaga Masamichi could no longer ignore the pair loitering at the edge of the field.
Gojo muttered under his breath as he turned to leave. "Fine, I'm going. Not like I enjoy watching anyway."
Geto slapped a palm to his own face with a hiss, trying to snap himself awake. Don't get the wrong idea. Gojo has flaws just like anyone else.
He instinctively grabbed the troublemaker's sleeve and dragged him away. Neither noticed that Asou Akiya had stopped mid-swing, sweat dripping from his brow, staring after their retreating backs with faint surprise that quickly softened into calm, warm acceptance. He smiled at Yaga Masamichi and said,
"Yaga-sensei, you're about to produce the strongest duo Tokyo Jujutsu High has ever seen."
Yaga snorted hot air through his nose, arms folded, massive frame planted like an immovable boulder. "More like the two biggest problem children in Tokyo Jujutsu High history."
Asou Akiya offered no reply. He simply threw himself back into training with total concentration.
In front of the teaching building, once they had left the field behind, Geto Suguru's questions refused to quiet down. "Gojo, do Yaga-sensei and Asou know that technique?"
Gojo answered without hesitation. "No."
Geto's eyes lit up like a predator scenting blood. "Once I learn it, can I teach it to Asou?"
Gojo: "…"
Gojo: "Wow! That's low, weird-bangs! If he wants to learn, shouldn't it be me who teaches him?"
Geto analysed the situation with cool logic. "You're terrible at teaching. I would be much better."
Gojo's grin turned wicked. "Hah! Nice try, but that won't work. You're not me. That school strictly forbids transmitting the technique to commoner sorcerers."
Geto felt the familiar sting of helplessness. Tsk. The jujutsu world was rotten with gatekeeping and clan prejudice.
…
August 13th.
Yaga Masamichi stopped writing on the board mid-lesson and announced the first piece of good summer news.
"Classes are dismissed this afternoon. Tokyo campus gets five days off, Kyoto gets seven. You're free to relax."
Geto Suguru and Asou Akiya stared blankly, the question slipping out on pure reflex. "Which festival is it this time?"
Ieiri Shoko tapped rapidly at her phone. "Obon."
Geto frowned, memory sharpening. "Didn't we already celebrate Obon from the 13th to the 16th of July?"
Gojo leaned over toward the neighbouring desks. "Wait, what? You guys already did Obon?"
Asou hesitated. "I think we did… Last month we had that mission at the public cemetery in Tokyo…"
Gojo shrugged. "It's different by region. Kyoto starts preparations on August 13th and holds the actual ancestral rites on the 15th."
Tokyo Jujutsu High always aligned its holidays with Kyoto's schedule.
Gojo Satoru made his declaration without a second thought. "Akiya, you promised me a holiday. You're staying. I'm gonna game for five straight days!"
Asou Akiya's eyelids twitched uncontrollably. "You… aren't going home?"
"Hmph. I don't even have parents. Why the hell should I go back to offer incense to ancestors? Wouldn't it be better if I just became their ancestor instead?"
The words detonated like a bomb. Geto Suguru's narrow eyes flew wide. Ieiri Shoko's jaw dropped. Yaga Masamichi froze mid-step, chalk still in hand.
Yaga muttered in stunned awe, as though he had just uncovered the deepest secret of the universe. "So that's how the Six Eyes are born in the Gojo family…"
Geto's bangs quivered in unison with his shock. "Gojo… you weren't born the normal way…?"
"Amazing, Gojo! No wonder you only appear once every five hundred years." Ieiri stared at the boy on the verge of being expelled from the human race, eyes gleaming with sudden scientific curiosity about dissecting him to study the origins of mankind.
Asou Akiya hurried to yank everyone back to reality before the nonsense spread further. "Don't let Gojo's delusions infect you. His parents are perfectly alive and well."
The moment the words left his mouth, Yaga and the other two students let out a collective, theatrical sigh of disappointment.
What exactly are you all so disappointed about?!