Yaga Masamichi was the last person to notice the changes unfolding within his class.
With Asou Akiya overseeing things and offering assistance, even the assistant supervisors who occasionally helped with lessons dared not speak out of turn — naturally, no one stepped forward as an informant.
"..." Yaga Masamichi endured the subtle antics of the students below with patient restraint.
In the classroom, Gojo Satoru had started playing a game of "passing secret notes." He attempted to slip a folded message to Asou Akiya, yet the path was repeatedly blocked by Geto Suguru's deliberate interference — fourth-grade cursed spirits flickering in and out of existence, becoming professional paper devourers.
This back-and-forth escalated steadily; Gojo Satoru's throws grew bolder each time, wrapping the paper balls in cursed energy before launching them with force — one strike to obliterate the obstructing spirit!
Yaga Masamichi braced himself, convinced that Geto Suguru would erupt in anger the very next second, already mentally preparing to restore order.
"Gojo, that's not allowed," Geto Suguru stated earnestly. "We can play around, but you can't exorcise the cursed spirits I control."
"Ehhh — so stingy, it's just one measly fourth-grade spirit," Gojo Satoru drawled, stretching the words in mock complaint.
"Grade has nothing to do with it — just listen to Suguru this once," Asou Akiya interjected. His figure was partially obscured behind Geto Suguru, his presence neither overpowering nor faint.
Whenever he spoke in that tone reserved for serious matters, even Gojo Satoru found himself unwilling to interrupt.
"Suguru's technique has limitations, doesn't it?" Ieiri Shoko, prompted by Asou Akiya's occasional lead, chimed in from time to time.
"Mmm…" Geto Suguru offered a measured disclosure of some details — mainly because he knew he could not keep them hidden from Asou Akiya anyway.
"Sugu, is there a limit to the number of cursed spirits you can subjugate?" Gojo Satoru, having recognized his mistake, showed no intention of repeating it. "If exorcising one of yours would permanently reduce your available slots, then I won't do it again."
"Something like that," Geto Suguru replied evasively, cautiously stealing another glance toward Asou Akiya.
"Why are you looking at me?" Asou Akiya teased lightly. "I've seen all of Suguru's hard work with my own eyes and tucked it away in my heart."
Geto Suguru's face drained of color in an instant, then darkened dramatically — the shifts in his expression unfolding in a particularly vivid spectacle.
Gojo Satoru tore off a fresh sheet of paper, scribbled hastily across it, and seized the opportunity to hurl it toward Asou Akiya — successfully crossing the border this time!
Asou Akiya caught the paper ball neatly.
"You lot…" Yaga Masamichi finally spoke up, proving once and for all that the homeroom teacher was neither blind nor deaf.
"Teacher Yaga, I report Gojo for throwing things around indiscriminately," Asou Akiya announced as he unfolded the paper, smoothing out the creases. He paid no mind to the utterly frivolous nonsense scrawled inside, simply slipping the note between the pages of his book to flatten it — treating it as a keepsake.
"Hand it over," Yaga Masamichi demanded, growing irritated by Asou Akiya's actions.
"This is a student's privacy," Asou Akiya replied with mild apology. "Hasn't Teacher Yaga noticed that Gojo has stopped using nicknames?"
"You two have gotten closer?" Yaga Masamichi asked, his attention successfully diverted.
Gojo Satoru declared, "Even though Sugu's bangs are pretty weird, I respect his sense of style."
Geto Suguru informed the teacher with serene composure: "It's purely because I have a good temper."
Gojo Satoru exclaimed in exaggerated disbelief: "You have a good temper? Then who is the guy who's always picking fights with me?"
From Gojo Satoru's perspective, he had never encountered anyone with a worse temper than Geto Suguru — someone who, at the slightest disagreement, immediately wanted to throw punches his way.
Geto Suguru: "Heh…"
Even when letting out a cold laugh, Geto Suguru remained firmly seated in his place — no longer the type to explode at the slightest provocation.
An immense wave of relief enveloped Yaga Masamichi.
The five-month adjustment period had finally drawn to a close; his students were at last interacting with one another in genuine harmony.
Unknowingly, Yaga Masamichi had poured an extraordinary amount of effort into this particular class.
Not only was he willing to assist Asou Akiya with training and lend out cursed tools, but he also strove to treat Geto Suguru's exceptional talent with fairness, minimizing interference from the adults.
Every time Geto and Gojo descended into brawls and scuffles, Yaga Masamichi would quietly clean up the aftermath — erasing disciplinary records, meting out punishment in his own way to the pair, and whenever he could catch Asou Akiya in the act of fanning the flames, he would make the instigator stand as penalty alongside them.
Yaga Masamichi had come to recognize one undeniable truth, and that is in this class, Ieiri Shoko was the only truly worry-free child.
During physical technique class, while instructing Asou Akiya in swordsmanship, Yaga Masamichi had mistakenly held back too much — accidentally allowing a first-grade cursed tool to graze his arm and draw a shallow cut. Asou Akiya rushed forward in alarm and called out, "Shoko! The teacher's injured!"
Yaga Masamichi rubbed his temple with a sigh: "No need to make such a fuss."
Especially not where the other two could hear.
"So lame," Gojo Satoru fanned the flames without mercy. "He could have flattened Akiya with a single punch, yet he chose to swing a sword — being a teacher isn't easy. Tokyo Jujutsu High really ought to give Teacher Yaga a bigger bonus."
"Gojo, showing concern for a teacher is what students should do," Geto Suguru remarked — though inwardly he thought Yaga Masamichi's skin was thick enough to shrug it off, he maintained a properly respectful tone on the surface. "There are always going to be a few bumps and bruises in physical technique lessons."
Ieiri Shoko placed both hands on Yaga Masamichi's right arm; the treatment concluded swiftly, yet a faint scar remained.
Asou Akiya's expression shifted subtly.
Gojo Satoru strode over and gave Asou Akiya a firm push between the shoulder blades. "Let me take a look."
Snapped out of his guilt-ridden daze, Asou Akiya hurriedly stepped aside. Gojo Satoru lowered his sunglasses and fixed his gaze intently on the wound.
"Shoko, your fine control is seriously lacking."
"Then you do it."
Ieiri Shoko could muster no enthusiasm for Gojo Satoru's armchair expertise.
She moved to the side, borrowed the first-grade cursed tool from Asou Akiya's hand, and swung it toward the lawn in a sweeping arc. Cursed energy surged into the long sword, producing a wide swath of scorched, blackened grass that looked as though seared by intense flames.
"This suits you perfectly," Ieiri Shoko stated bluntly. "Your flame-type cursed energy paired with this inscribed longsword — no wonder you managed to breach Teacher Yaga's cursed energy reinforcement and actually wound the body of a first-grade sorcerer."
Asou Akiya's thoughts tumbled into disarray for a long moment. "Ah?"
Ieiri Shoko continued, "The fact that he lent you this particular sword shows Teacher Yaga is quite attentive."
Any words Asou Akiya might have spoken about returning the cursed tool caught in his throat. He met Ieiri Shoko's eyes and received a knowing look in return.
Ieiri Shoko understood the gentle softness with which Asou Akiya treated others.
Yet sorcerers had no need for it — she believed unnecessary concern was nothing more than a burden.
"Yaga, cut away this chunk of flesh and treat it again," Gojo Satoru suggested. "I want to watch one more time."
Yaga Masamichi raised his hand and clenched it into a fist the size of a sandbag before bringing it down squarely on the white-haired youth's head.
Gojo Satoru had bent over to assess the situation when he suddenly yelped in pain.
"Ouch!"
Geto Suguru snickered quietly — serves you right for getting punched.
Proficient in close-quarters combat, he took the other long sword from Yaga Masamichi's hand and said eagerly: "Akiya, let's spar."
Asou Akiya refused the offer with a shake of his head.
"A single scar is nothing to fuss over," Yaga Masamichi said as he rolled down his sleeve and addressed all the students. "Sorcerers are bound to get injured in this life — even I can be wounded by a novice if I let my guard down. None of you should underestimate the power of advanced cursed tools, especially you, Asou Akiya! Without an innate technique, advanced cursed tools are equivalent to your own technique!"
Asou Akiya's heart clenched tightly, stirred deeply by the phrase "advanced cursed tools are equivalent to your own technique."
That's right! How could he have overlooked something so straightforward?
Fushiguro Toji had wielded a special-grade cursed tool to defeat both Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru — proof that possessing a technique was not the sole passport to strength.
Of course, part of it stemmed from the unparalleled physical prowess granted by the Heavenly Tyrant constitution, where innate cursed energy was traded for an incomparable body — but did lacking a technique truly render someone weak?
Fushiguro Toji earned money to acquire cursed tools and devised meticulous battle strategies, employing combat wisdom that constituted a form of power — a power capable of commanding respect from sorcerers beyond the Zenin clan.
When Asou Akiya looked at the sword-shaped cursed tool once more, joy welled up within him like melting wax dripping warmly onto his heart.
Fourth-grade sorcerer would not be his ceiling.
With the right advanced cursed tools, his strength could ascend to an entirely new level.
Money! Money, money, money! From now on, he would earn it frantically — buy up every special-grade cursed tool on the market, and sweep them all into his possession!
"I understand now — it is my partner in battle."
Asou Akiya bowed deeply to Yaga Masamichi, expressing gratitude for the profound meaning of the guidance and for the teacher's kindness.
"Let's continue."
Yaga Masamichi cast a glance toward Gojo Satoru, yet Gojo Satoru offered no reaction — nor any intention to boast about cursed tools.
Gojo Satoru thought to himself: Why is Yaga's look so strange? If little tangerine didn't lack cursed tools and his cursed energy wasn't so weak — if the high school's vault weren't so stingy — he would never have needed to take one from the Gojo family vault.
The greatest excuse of the weak was weakness itself; Gojo Satoru had no intention of letting Asou Akiya fall back on such excuses during arguments anymore.
Now, with an advanced cursed tool serving as Asou Akiya's effective "technique."
Watching the teacher and student resume their sword practice, Geto Suguru quietly asked Gojo Satoru: "How much does an advanced cursed tool like that usually cost?"
Gojo Satoru wore the expression of someone confronted with a blind spot in his knowledge. "No idea."
Geto Suguru conceded with a sigh, "Then ask for me."
Gojo Satoru pulled out his phone and made a call. After a brief moment, he replied: "Market price is around seventy million — in yen, of course. They circulate only within the jujutsu world; buyers must agree to a binding vow prohibiting resale to the government or ordinary people — probably to prevent them from being hoarded away as antiques. Advanced cursed tools inscribed with techniques are often the sort that have a price but no availability."
Hearing the steep figure at first, Geto Suguru bowed his head and began mentally calculating the bounties for exorcising high-level cursed spirits.
"Huh — I might actually be able to afford one?"
"Hah — what's with that face! Of course you can afford it. First-grade tools are only effective against first-grade spirits at best — they're practically useless against special-grade ones. You and I are going to be special-grade sorcerers — we'll be raking in money like crazy!"
Gojo Satoru scarcely gave ordinary sorcerer salaries a second thought, yet his mind was razor-sharp when it came to mathematics — calculations flashed through his head with breathtaking speed.
A single special-grade sorcerer could easily clear a hundred million yen in annual income without breaking a sweat.
…
That night.
Yaga Masamichi sat alone in his office, rolling up his sleeve to examine the faint, raised scar on his forearm. On the desk before him lay the empty meal tray from the nutritious dinner Asou Akiya had delivered earlier — every bite consumed, leaving only the dish itself, waiting to be returned to its thoughtful owner tomorrow.
Asou Akiya's explanation had been that the teacher had lost blood and needed replenishment. Heaven only knew how a longsword inscribed with a scorching technique had managed to draw blood instead of cauterizing the wound on contact.
Yaga Masamichi changed into a fresh instructor's uniform and stepped out of the office. The assistant supervisor assigned to drive him had been waiting patiently for some time, dressed in somber black long sleeves and trousers that lent an air of grim seriousness to the darkened corridor.
"The meeting with Kyoto Jujutsu High is scheduled for eight o'clock tonight," Yaga Masamichi instructed as he slid into the back seat. "Don't arrive exactly on the dot — if we can get there early, we will."
The assistant supervisor lowered his voice respectfully. "Shall we wait for the old principal?"
Yaga Masamichi settled back and closed his eyes to rest. "I am acting with full authority tonight."
Though he served as the first-year homeroom teacher and class supervisor, in reality Yaga Masamichi was also the second-in-command at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College — commonly abbreviated as Kyoto Jujutsu High or simply Kyoto School — was an institution of immense antiquity, founded in the era when Shinto and Buddhism still mingled freely. Many of its buildings echoed the architectural grace of Kyoto's renowned Kiyomizu Temple, and its sprawling grounds yielded nothing in scale to the later-established Tokyo Jujutsu High, exuding a profound aura of ancient tradition.
A lavish tatami room reserved for negotiations glowed softly with lantern light, awaiting Yaga Masamichi's arrival.
"You've come."
Seated upon the sofa, Gakuganji Yoshinobu leaned heavily on his cane, his voice low and dour — the very picture of a cantankerous elder difficult to approach.
"No tardiness — I am ten minutes early."
Yaga Masamichi glanced at his phone, long accustomed to the Kyoto principal's temperament.
Outside the room, an attendant slid the fusuma doors shut with quiet finality. Yaga Masamichi stepped onto the carpet and settled into the sofa opposite. "Have the details for this year's Sister School Exchange Event been finalized? When does Kyoto School plan to host us?"
Gakuganji Yoshinobu rasped in reply: "Following tradition, the exchange event is scheduled for a weekend in the middle of this month — specifically September 17th and 18th. Kyoto School will have the dormitories prepared a week in advance. How many students do you intend to send?"
Yaga Masamichi answered steadily: "Third-years Mei Mei and Utahime Iori; first-years Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Asou Akiya. In addition, I will bring Ieiri Shoko — possessor of the reverse cursed technique — to Kyoto School as support staff."
Gakuganji Yoshinobu nodded in acknowledgment of the lineup; Kyoto School was well acquainted with Tokyo's third-year students.
Mei Mei was a formidable female sorcerer not to be underestimated, hailing from a distinguished lineage yet having chosen, for reasons unknown, to enroll at Tokyo School.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu sought confirmation: "Three Grade 1 sorcerers, one Grade 2, and one Grade 4?"
Yaga Masamichi felt a faint twinge of conscience — it did seem rather unfair. "Yes."
Gakuganji Yoshinobu fell silent.
What was the point of competing? They might as well concede outright — the sheer scale of power Tokyo School was deploying could effortlessly eradicate a special-grade cursed spirit.
In previous years, the group competition had involved releasing second-grade and first-grade cursed spirits at the event site, with the schools competing on the speed at which their students could exorcise them.
What were they to do this year?
Which school's vault of sealed spirits would even contain a special-grade cursed spirit?
Yaga Masamichi broke the oppressive atmosphere with an apologetic tone: "Which is precisely why I have come to discuss the details with you."
Gakuganji Yoshinobu raised two fingers: "The two third-year students from Tokyo School need not participate."
That would exclude one first-grade sorcerer and one second-grade sorcerer from the outset.
Yaga Masamichi hesitated: "Very well…"
Gakuganji Yoshinobu then extended three more fingers: "The three first-year students from Tokyo School will face off against Kyoto School students from all three years. Otherwise, there would be no point in spectators — the event could simply be declared over from the start."
Yaga Masamichi frowned, mindful of the individual competitions still to come.
"That seems a bit harsh — is there room for negotiation?"
Gakuganji Yoshinobu replied with a helpless edge, "The circumstances are different this year. Kyoto School's incoming freshmen are of lower caliber — not a single second-grade sorcerer among them. We attempted to invite the young master of the Zenin family, but that young lord refused enrollment. Aside from him, which first-year newcomer do you believe could stand directly against the bearers of the Six Eyes and Cursed Spirit Manipulation?"
[For instance, Asou Akiya?]
Yaga Masamichi muttered inwardly.
Yaga Masamichi sighed — there were gains and losses. The group competition looked highly promising this year, yet the individual rounds offered little cause for optimism.
New students who enrolled at the level of second-grade sorcerer had always been regarded as prodigious talents by both schools — rare gems that appeared perhaps once every few years. This year, Tokyo School had enjoyed exceptional fortune, securing peerless geniuses like Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru. For Kyoto School to unearth a freshman capable of rivaling Gojo Satoru on equal footing was nothing short of a pipe dream.
Yaga Masamichi, bearing the weighty responsibility of organizing the seventeenth Sister School Exchange Event, could only agree if the competition were to proceed as planned.
Not every advantage could be allowed to fall exclusively to Tokyo School.
Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru were more than capable of sweeping aside every sorcerer third-grade and above, leaving the fourth-grade opponents for Asou Akiya to face.
With the official matters settled, Yaga Masamichi relaxed at once and fell into easy conversation with Gakuganji Yoshinobu.
The two were friends despite the difference in their ages.
One was passionate about knitting techniques; the other cherished music and the guitar.
"How is your band faring these days, Principal Gakuganji?"
"Sigh. An old friend passed away — the band is on the verge of disbanding."
"Nowadays it truly is the era of the young — even I am struggling to keep pace with the times…"
"And your students, Yaga?"
"This year's class is exceptionally talented, though they bring no end of trouble along with it — they have nearly torn Tokyo Jujutsu High apart."
Gakuganji Yoshinobu was rendered momentarily speechless by Yaga Masamichi's description. Indeed — they had even dared to storm the conservative headquarters.
Suddenly, Yaga Masamichi ventured, "I hear the young master of the Zenin family is one year younger than Gojo Satoru — what level of ability does he possess?"
Yaga Masamichi harbored a faint desire to recruit him. A school thrived on outstanding new blood; since Kyoto School's invitation had been declined, Tokyo School might as well extend its own. With such a dazzling precedent already set, the Zenin heir's strength could hardly lag far behind that of Gojo Satoru, whose talent matched his exalted lineage.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu tapped his cane sharply against the floor and replied in a tone neither warm nor cold: "That is none of your concern."
Yaga Masamichi had grown nearly immune to prodigies of late — his heart swelled with grand ambition, his thoughts fixed firmly on the future of the jujutsu world.
He snapped back to the present and offered repeated apologies to his old friend, assuring him that he had no intention of prying into intelligence concerning the Three Great Families.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu lowered his voice: "[Special] second-grade sorcerer — a true genius."
Yaga Masamichi's eyes widened in surprise.
A distinctive elderly smile played across Gakuganji Yoshinobu's features — the sort of expectant amusement that came from watching someone else walk straight into a wall.
Most members of the conservative headquarters hoped the veil of mystery surrounding the Three Great Families would soon be lifted.
Everything was understood without needing to be spoken aloud.