When Asou Akiya went off alone to search for cursed spirits, it was inevitable that he would eventually run into students from Kyoto Jujutsu High.
That very outcome—being isolated—was precisely what Getou Suguru had been worried about.
From behind a tree, a second-year Kyoto student stepped into view. He abandoned his mission entirely, his entire body tense with vigilance as he fixed his gaze on the black-haired boy and the cursed spirit perched on his shoulder. There was resentment in his eyes as he spoke, unable to hide his unwillingness.
"Why are you alone? Didn't you go after the special-grade cursed spirit?"
"So it's a second-year senior from the Kamo family," Asou Akiya replied calmly. "If I remember correctly, among the seven Kyoto students participating this time, your overall strength ranks fourth."
As he spoke, Asou casually reached up and stroked the Grade Three cursed spirit resting on his shoulder. Ever since Gojo Satoru had single-handedly overwhelmed everyone during that earlier incident, Asou had taken the opportunity to squeeze every last scrap of information out of him—each participant's total cursed energy reserves, the nature of their cursed techniques, their family backgrounds, and their overall combat strength.
When it came to intelligence, Asou occupied an advantage as insurmountable as Mount Everest itself.
A person's true name was irrelevant.
What mattered was this: the senior standing before him was a Grade Three jujutsu sorcerer, a member of a branch family of the Kamo clan, and therefore one rank above Asou himself.
The Three Great Families could never be measured by ordinary standards. Any of their members had to be treated as opponents at least half a tier stronger than their official grade suggested. By that metric, Asou's luck was neither especially good nor especially bad—he had not run into the strongest senior present, but neither had he encountered a first-year he could easily sweep aside.
"I can answer your question," Asou said mildly. "My two classmates have already entered the core area. As for me, my assignment is to exorcise lower-grade cursed spirits and provide real-time feedback to our homeroom teacher, who's monitoring things from the conference room."
Then, with an unhurried smile, he turned the question back on his opponent.
"And you, senior? How many cursed spirits has your team exorcised so far?"
Judging by appearances alone, who would ever believe that Asou Akiya was merely a Grade Four sorcerer?
Kamo Masataka was momentarily stunned. He found it hard to trust the cursed energy he was sensing. After all, the cursed spirit perched so casually on the boy's shoulder was unmistakably Grade Three. For all he knew, this Tokyo student might possess a cursed technique that concealed his own cursed energy entirely while manipulating spirits directly—a rare and dangerous type of Shikigami user.
Hesitating, Kamo deliberately understated their results, forcing an awkward laugh as he replied, "We've… probably exorcised five or six lower-grade cursed spirits so far."
Asou Akiya reached down and unfastened the long sword at his waist. Kamo Masataka frowned slightly—he couldn't recognize it at all. It wasn't any famous cursed tool associated with Tokyo Jujutsu High.
"You can't tell what it is?" Asou asked, genuine surprise flickering across his face.
"The cursed tool armories of Tokyo Jujutsu High and Kyoto Jujutsu High aren't shared," Kamo Masataka replied defensively. He took a step back as he spoke, clearly unwilling to let this encounter escalate into a fight. "I'll leave the cursed spirits in this area to you. I have no intention of competing with you for them."
"That won't do," Asou Akiya said calmly.
He was short on opponents—and even more short on someone he could safely squeeze like a soft persimmon, the kind that yields at the slightest pressure.
"I'll place a binding vow on myself," Asou continued, his tone steady and unhurried. "I won't use any innate cursed technique in this fight."
"..."
If you say that, my legs won't go weak anymore!
Kamo Masataka's confidence flared back to life in an instant. He had a cursed technique, and not just any technique—he was a sorcerer cultivated by one of the Three Great Clans. By birth alone, he stood a tier above ordinary civilian sorcerers. Compared to him, this so-called opponent who wouldn't even use an innate technique—someone relying on external methods, commanding a shikigami and a cursed spirit rather than possessing a bloodline art—was getting far too arrogant.
Don't get cocky, Kamo thought grimly. You're not even using a technique.
In the very next moment, Asou Akiya shifted his stance.
His posture lowered, his grip tightened, and he assumed a forward-driving sword form meant purely for attack. Crimson cursed energy surged violently from his palm, transforming into blazing flames that roared to life in midair. The fire coiled around the blade like a living dragon, winding along the steel inch by inch, until it completely enveloped the sword's edge. The cursed energy resonated with the weapon's inherent power, producing a sharp, oppressive pressure that made the surrounding air tremble.
"This is a Grade One cursed tool," Asou said evenly. "This sword has no name. Its cursed technique cannot be disclosed publicly, but I can tell you one defining trait."
His eyes lifted, cold and precise.
"Damage inflicted by this blade cannot be perfectly repaired by Reverse Cursed Technique."
"It will leave permanent scars."
"So please be careful, Kamo-senpai."
The sword screamed as it cut through the air.
Asou Akiya gave his opponent no chance to retreat, launching forward in an explosive thrust. His movement was clean, ruthless, and utterly decisive.
Damn it! Kamo Masataka's heart nearly stopped. A rare and extremely expensive Grade One cursed tool, equipped with a technique that caused permanent disfigurement—this was the kind of weapon that could end a sorcerer's career in a single strike.
Without hesitation, he sprang up into the trees, his courage evaporating by half. The sword flashed again, and the tree he had just leapt from erupted into flames, the fire racing across the bark in a heartbeat. Forced into panic, Kamo kicked off desperately and jumped away, barely avoiding being caught in the inferno.
From that point on, the fight devolved into a frantic struggle.
Kamo Masataka found his attacks completely constrained. He could no longer afford to press forward; evasion became his priority, every movement focused on survival rather than counterattack. No matter how he tried to reposition, he found himself constantly driven back, trapped beneath relentless pressure.
In stark contrast, Asou Akiya showed no hesitation at all.
Every step he took was pursuit.
Every swing of his blade was a promise of execution.
He pressed the advantage without mercy, driving Kamo into a continuous retreat, his killing intent unwavering from beginning to end.
Blades showed no mercy, and flames knew no compassion. With his eyes fixed unblinking on his opponent, Asou captured every minute movement, every subtle shift of posture and breath. He read the flow of cursed energy as it stirred and bent through the air, predicting its trajectory before it could fully manifest, cutting off any opportunity for Kamo Masataka to bring his technique into proper play. The oppressive threat radiating from the Grade One cursed tool—its technique, "Scorch"—loomed like a death sentence, forcing his opponent back step by step, until there was nowhere left to retreat.
At last, in the decisive moment that would determine victory or defeat, Asou Akiya feinted.
The false opening deceived his opponent's eyes completely.
He abandoned the sword.
His left fist swung forward.
The blow landed squarely.
Asou Akiya struck from the front and knocked his opponent unconscious in a single, clean hit.
Kamo Masataka's head took the full impact. His cursed energy defenses collapsed instantly, and darkness swallowed his vision. In the fleeting instant before consciousness left him, a single thought surfaced—thank goodness he wasn't pierced by that high-grade cursed tool. The idea of being left with permanent scars was, in its own way, far more horrifying than defeat itself.
"So you're really that afraid of scars?" Asou Akiya murmured, crouching down in front of him as he mentally recorded the experience of his first real battle.
"Kamo-senpai, thank you for the experience points," he added lightly. "Don't worry—I'll remember you."
Rising to his feet, he deliberately smiled toward the surrounding forest, his posture relaxed, almost casual.
"No one's coming out?" he asked.
Only the wind answered him, rustling through the trees and leaves with a soft, whispering hiss. No figures emerged from the shadows.
"Come on," Asou said, voice carrying faint amusement. "Someone should really come and avenge him."
Having long been steeped in it, he unconsciously stretched his tone the way Gojo Satoru always did—lazy, elongated, brimming with provocation.
Sword in hand once more, a Grade Three cursed spirit perched upon his shoulder, Asou Akiya turned and gave chase to the low-level cursed spirits that had fled in terror from the aftershocks of the battle. His blade flashed again and again, each swing clean and decisive. Under the ferocious flames of cursed energy, the lesser spirits were obliterated utterly, leaving nothing behind—not even a drop of blood to stain the ground.
Throughout this time, the other jujutsu students hidden within the area watched in silent dread. None of them dared to intervene. All they managed to do was retrieve the unconscious Kamo Masataka and retreat, hearts pounding, before disappearing back into the forest.
Asou Akiya's attitude toward hunting cursed spirits—and toward the students of Kyoto Jujutsu High—fell neatly into two distinct categories.
When he encountered Kyoto students he could defeat, or at least had a fair chance of defeating, he would first establish a Binding Vow to fight without using innate techniques. This lulled his opponent into willingly stepping into the role of a "proper rival." Then, relying on the disfiguring effect of his Grade One cursed tool, he would erode their resolve to fight him to the bitter end, steadily amplifying his own advantage until it was overwhelming, crushing them beneath the momentum of consecutive victories.
When he ran into senior students he clearly could not overcome, he behaved with impeccable courtesy—exchanging polite words, parting civilly, or subtly guiding the situation toward another Binding Vow in which neither side used techniques. Even if he lost under those conditions, it would amount to nothing more than a defeat in pure hand-to-hand combat or swordsmanship, leaving no lingering consequences.
This team-based event suited Asou Akiya perfectly. Aside from the moments when he ran into Grade One cursed spirits and had to retreat decisively, neither Grade Two spirits nor semi–Grade Two spirits were capable of inspiring fear in him anymore.
Simply put, he ran rampant through the forest, thoroughly enjoying the thrill of snatching cursed spirits right out of his enemies' hands.
All by himself, he closed nearly one-third of the score gap between Tokyo Jujutsu High and Kyoto Jujutsu High.
Several hours passed. The northeastern sector continued to exude an ominous, unsettling presence. The first day of the team event failed to conclude ahead of schedule, and Ieiri Shoko reported within the Jujutsu High Same-Year Quartet group chat that the special-grade cursed spirit still had not been exorcised.
"How can they still be dragging this out?" someone muttered. "Did they get bogged down in a hard fight?"
Standing atop a tall tree with a clear view, Asou Akiya gazed in the direction where his two classmates were battling, unease tugging at his chest.
"Don't overdo it…" he murmured.
With his phone out of contact, a creeping anxiety inevitably surfaced.
The special-grade imaginary vengeful cursed spirit known as "Kokkuri-san" possessed no self-awareness. It had been forcibly matured to the level of a special grade by external means. Its Domain Expansion was an unfinished product—a crude, incomplete construct—which Gojo Satoru, familiar with the Kokkuri-san game, had irreverently dubbed "Easy to Summon, Hard to Send Away."
At this very moment, Gojo Satoru was half-crouched within a Simple Domain of his own making, neutralizing the guaranteed-hit effect of Kokkuri-san's Domain Expansion. One Simple Domain could last roughly fifteen minutes, and its cursed energy consumption was lower than the rate at which he naturally recovered. On top of that, he had mastered the Zenin family's secret technique, Falling Blossom Emotion, allowing him to counter attacks automatically with cursed energy. As a result, he remained entirely unscathed.
Gojo—half perpetual-motion machine—Satoru held up his phone with both hands, pointing it squarely at Getou Suguru, and spoke with undisguised schadenfreude.
"Getou, focus," he said cheerfully. "This is your chance to train your Simple Domain. Don't mess it up like last time and blurt out your true feelings by accident."
Gojo then deliberately mimicked Getou's solemn tone, exaggerating it to an infuriating degree.
"My wish," he intoned, "is to be able to eat delicious soba noodles every single day."
Getou groaned in agony. "Stop filming!"
Gojo's phone couldn't capture cursed spirits on camera, but it could very clearly record Getou inside the domain, getting hit by the technique and involuntarily voicing his wishes. That alone was more than enough.
They had run into a serious problem.
More precisely, Getou Suguru had run headlong into a serious problem—entirely on his own.
He had only hurriedly learned the basics of Simple Domain from a teacher dispatched by the Headquarters, and while he understood the theory, his practical application still lacked both speed and stability. Compared to Gojo's, his Simple Domain lasted for a far shorter time and fluctuated dangerously. As a result, the attacks from Kokkuri-san's domain were concentrated almost entirely on Getou. Once his Simple Domain shattered, he had to reconstruct the next one immediately—before his composure collapsed and before he was forced to speak another wish aloud.
Because of a small, deeply buried desire for soba noodles, Getou had already been injured once. It was only a light wound—nothing serious—something he could deal with by swallowing the blood in his mouth and pressing on. From this, Gojo deduced that the cursed spirit's technique was of the hypnosis type: it latched onto the human psyche, amplified desire, and grew stronger the longer the battle dragged on, its effects compounding over time.
Gojo made it clear that he had no intention of interfering with Getou's chance to subdue the cursed spirit. At the same time, however, he saw absolutely no reason to stop himself from collecting Getou's embarrassing moments. After all, once Getou became a special-grade sorcerer, this footage would be perfect for a laugh.
"Gojo, don't push me—!" Getou snapped.
This Domain Expansion was an unfinished product—but then again, wasn't his Simple Domain also a half-finished one?
Forced to take the hit yet again, Getou finally lost it.
"My wish," he shouted, the darkness in his heart spilling free, "is for Gojo's Simple Domain to shatter!"
He charged straight into Gojo's Simple Domain, ramming into him with sheer physical force and knocking him off the ground, brute-forcing the conditions so that his own wish would be fulfilled by his own hands.
A Simple Domain needs a compulsory Binding Vow where both feet must remain planted on the ground in exchange for its protective effect.*
*{Note: Yeah, this is false, a Simple Domain does not need that Binding Vow. The only character that used this Binding Vow is Miwa Kasumi, and the reason she uses it is to enhance her sword-drawing techniques. I think the author kinda forgot about it.}
What should have been a wish capable of inflicting severe damage on Getou instead turned into a low-cost, harmless one.
Because Gojo had already left the ground.
Gojo Satoru let out an exaggerated, delighted "Wow!"
This time, it was Gojo Satoru who stood fully exposed to the technique of the special-grade imaginary cursed spirit known as "Kokkuri-san." The sure-hit effect of the Domain Expansion pierced straight through the defenses of his Limitless technique, bypassing infinity as though it were never there to begin with. Even so, Gojo's mental state remained remarkably steady. Completely unbothered, he raised his phone, aimed the camera at himself, and began recording both video and audio, speaking cheerfully as if this were nothing more than a game.
"I don't really have any wishes," he declared. "Alright, fine—if I have to make one, then my wish is that Suguru and Akiya will stay up all night gaming with me, watch movies together, eat late-night snacks together, and before we graduate, nobody's allowed to be the first one to get a girlfriend."
As he finished speaking, Gojo flashed a V-sign at the camera and broke into a wide grin, his dazzling white teeth on full display. Blood seeped faintly from his gums, but the injury was light—well within tolerable limits. He had passed.
"Your turn, Suguru!"
"..."
That was ruthless. Absolutely ruthless—forcing them all to remain single just like that.
Taking advantage of the brief moment when Gojo was affected by the technique, Getou immediately summoned a large number of cursed spirits and sent them out to probe the boundaries of the domain. He no longer held any expectations that Gojo would actively participate in combat; if they wanted to break the domain, he would have to find a method himself. One way or another, he had to identify its limits.
Good—some of the cursed spirits appeared to have survived. That meant progress.
"My wish…" Getou hesitated, his voice faltering. "…is… that I want to become friends with Asou Akiya…"
Bitterness spread across his expression. He braced himself instinctively, fully expecting to be struck by a devastating backlash.
Gojo reacted with exaggerated disbelief. "That's your wish? Weren't you already friends a long time ago?"
Getou swallowed a second mouthful of blood. His throat burned now, raw and aching.
He had too many wishes. Too many desires. His thoughts were a chaotic mess, nowhere near as relaxed or carefree as Gojo's. Yet through this absurd, dangerous game of enforced "truth-telling," he had come to realize something fundamental about Gojo Satoru: his mind was astonishingly clean and transparent, and his nerves were as thick as reinforced steel.
"Gojo! The Simple Domain is pinning us in place—we can't move!" Getou shouted urgently. "Attack remotely in the direction of my first-grade cursed spirit—now!"
In order to locate the domain's weak point, Getou had paid a staggering price. More than a dozen second-grade cursed spirits, along with hundreds of third- and fourth-grade ones, were torn to shreds by the rampaging Kokkuri-san, reduced to dust and fragments without mercy. In the end, however, one cursed spirit whose technique was linked to seismic vibrations managed to strike something solid. Through that single, decisive blow, Getou finally confirmed the edge of the domain. Coordinating with the high-grade cursed spirits he had left outside, he launched a concentrated attack on that point.
"So you found it that fast~."
Gojo spoke lightly, but his eyes were sharp. In the same instant, he carried out precise calculations and sensory adjustments, already aligning himself with Getou's assault, perfectly aware of the timing, distance, and cursed energy flow required to shatter the domain.
The area covered by the Domain Expansion was not large; it was ill-suited for deploying Blue, a technique whose range and backlash could easily affect the user himself.
Gojo raised his hand. The crimson glow he had once shown Getou—only for it to dissipate halfway through the demonstration—now spread throughout the entire space, staining the air itself with a deep, ominous red.
"Cursed Technique Reversal—Red!"
The fantastical power of the Limitless compressed flawlessly. Cursed energy stacked upon cursed energy, inverted and fused, condensing into a pure force of repulsion.
Five hundred years after its last appearance, Red manifested once more—its minimum output alone exceeding Blue by more than twice. Gojo Satoru, together with the cursed spirits under Getou Suguru's control, executed a perfect inside-outside pincer attack. Using this newly mastered technique for the very first time, they violently shattered the Domain Expansion deployed by the special-grade cursed spirit!
"Kokkuri-san" revealed its true form at last: a circular, grotesquely twisted monster, clutching a pen tightly in its hand.
Gojo struck it down in a single decisive blow, leaving it in a critically wounded state.
Getou Suguru immediately summoned the remainder of his reserves. Hundreds of cursed spirits surged forward at high speed, tearing and gnawing at Kokkuri-san, forcibly restraining its movements and pinning it in place.
Then Getou Suguru extended his palm toward the cursed spirit, his expression radiant with uncontrollable joy as he declared, "Become my cursed spirit orb!"
After more than ten seconds of subjugation, a perfectly round sphere dropped neatly into Getou Suguru's palm.
A special-grade imaginary cursed spirit—successfully defeated!