Ieiri Shoko's fingers stilled in the Shiba Inu's impossibly soft fur. She looked up, her physician's mind grappling with the contradiction before her—the warmth, the rhythmic breath, the quiet pulse under her fingertips—all woven from a single drop of blood. Her question was quiet, almost tentative. "Since it's a flesh puppet… does it also have emotions? Things like that?"
Kamo Itsuki regarded the creature curled at his feet. Its brown eyes, liquid and warm, reflected the classroom light. "It has simulated responses," he explained, his tone clinical yet thoughtful. "It can interpret tone and body language to exhibit fear, curiosity, or contentment. It seeks warmth and avoids perceived threats because those protocols promote its preservation and function. But it doesn't feel in the way we understand. There's no subjective experience. No joy, no sorrow. It's a very sophisticated… biological machine."
He met Shoko's gaze, his own expression unreadable. "The spark of true consciousness, the 'soul' if you will, is something even Teacher Yaga's research has yet to fully define or replicate. Panda is… a miracle. A one-in-a-billion convergence. What I've mastered is the vessel. The ghost inside is another matter entirely."
Gojo Satoru, who had been uncharacteristically silent, let out a low whistle. "So you can make the body, but you can't make the driver. Still… that's already hacking the system." His Six Eyes were undoubtedly analyzing the intricate, flowing curse energy that sustained the construct. "A zoo, huh? You could probably make extinct animals, too. A living history museum."
Geto Suguru's initial shock had settled into a deep, pensive wariness. "The ethical lines here are… blurred beyond recognition," he murmured. "A puppet that breathes and bleeds but has no self. It exists in a moral void."
"It exists to fulfill a purpose," Kamo corrected gently. "Like a tool. The morality lies entirely with the one who wields it." He waved his hand again, and the Shiba Inu dissolved back into a shimmering droplet of blood, which then vanished into his palm as if it had never been. The absence of the creature felt suddenly stark in the quiet room.
"I study this to understand the boundaries of life and technique," Kamo continued, his voice low. "Not to cross them carelessly. Knowledge itself isn't terrifying. It's the intent behind its use."
Before the heavy silence could deepen, the classroom door slid open. Yaga Masamichi stood in the doorway, his imposing frame blocking the light from the hall. He took in the solemn faces of his students, his sharp eyes lingering on Kamo Itsuki.
"Good, you're all here," he grunted, stepping inside. "I take it you've seen a demonstration." It wasn't a question. His gaze swept over them, teacher and students bound by secrets and staggering potential. "Remember what you felt just now. That unease. That weight. That is the responsibility that comes with the craft. Never forget it."
He moved to the front of the room, placing a thick folder on the lectern. "Now, set that aside. We have a mission. And this one," he said, his voice grave, "requires all four of you."
Yaga Masamichi's expression remained stern, but a flicker of understanding passed through his eyes. He knew the burden he was placing on them. "The world of jujutsu is not fair," he stated, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Curses do not schedule their appearances around school events. The Higher-ups have decreed that the Exchange Event will proceed, and your duty assignments will not be paused. This is the reality for sorcerers—you must learn to operate at the intersection of multiple obligations, often under duress."
He leaned forward, his hands braced on the lectern. "Consider this part of your training. Time management, mission efficiency, stamina conservation—these are as vital as any cursed technique. The Kyoto students will face the same constraints. This event isn't just about who is stronger in a ring. It is about who can endure, adapt, and remain effective under cumulative pressure."
Gojo Satoru, who had been slouched in his chair, straightened up, a sharp grin spreading across his face. "So it's a test of overall capacity, not just a straight fight. More interesting that way."
"Interesting is one word for it," Geto Suguru replied, though a spark of challenge had replaced his earlier doubt. The logistical puzzle seemed to engage his strategic mind.
Kamo Itsuki listened quietly, his earlier demonstration of the Shiba Inu already a closed subject. His mind was already parsing the new variables. One month. Missions continue. Kyoto. The need to possibly conceal the full extent of his capabilities during a supervised event added another layer of complexity. He glanced at Yaga sensei, noting the tense set of his teacher's shoulders. The burden of the "Higher-ups" was a constant, invisible weight.
"I understand," Kamo said, his voice cutting through the simmering concerns. "We will compartmentalize. Mission efficiency will take priority during the week. Evenings and any respite will be for strategizing and recovery for the event." He spoke not as a student seeking permission, but as a tactician outlining a campaign. "The real challenge will be managing our cursed energy reserves to ensure we are never depleted at a critical moment, whether facing a curse or an opponent from Kyoto."
Ieiri Shoko let out a slow breath, her initial frustration giving way to a resigned determination. "So, no downtime for a month. I'll need to pre-prepare first-aid supplies and optimize my reverse cursed technique output. Preventive care for all of you will be crucial."
Yaga Masamichi gave a single, grave nod. He saw their individual gears turning, shifting from complaint to calculation. This was what he needed to see. "Good. The details of the event's format and your ongoing mission roster will be provided tomorrow. Dismissed. Use today to prepare your minds. The grind starts now."
As the four students filed out of the classroom, the air around them had changed. The casual camaraderie was still there, but it was now underscored by a shared, focused tension. The upcoming month was no longer simply about an exchange event; it was a trial run for the relentless, multifaceted demands of the lives they were destined to lead.
Kamo Itsuki fell into step beside the others, his thoughts already drifting to the practicalities. Blood clones could handle low-level reconnaissance on missions, conserving our strength… Puppet constructs could be pre-made and stored for the event, but their nature must remain concealed… The path forward was fraught with obstacles, both from curses and from the watching eyes of the Jujutsu world. For the first time, the full weight of being the "divine child" pressed upon him—not as a title, but as a constant demand to outperform, outthink, and outlast.
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