Urihime clasped her hands together, smiling proudly with flushed cheeks. "My future husband."
Aramaki shot her a deadpan glare. "You are not getting married to Wasuke. Stop indulging in your fantasies."
Urihime blew a bubble with her gum, unfazed. "Hater."
Before the tension could grow, Tsurugi suddenly slapped his palm against the desk. "Sensei, please continue."
Yuka turned toward him and laughed. "You're really invested whenever the topic involves your best friend, huh?"
Tsurugi glanced back at her. "Don't act like you're not invested in your little boyfriend too."
Yuka froze.
"B–boyfriend?" Her cheeks flushed bright red. "What are you even talking about?!"
Usami chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Enough teasing." He straightened slightly. "I'll continue."
He folded his arms. "Yuji Itadori's son, that bastard Takaba Itadori married my sister, Kushina Inumaki."
The room went silent.
"From that union," Usami continued, "Wasuke Itadori Jr. was born."
Urihime leaned forward slightly. Aramaki's jaw tightened.
"He was born with Cursed Speech," Usami said. "But that alone wasn't enough to change the balance of the world. No. What truly did that…" His eyes sharpened. "Was his second technique."
"…Shrine," Yuka murmured.
Usami nodded. "Yes. Shrine."
Yuka leaned back, thoughtful. "His slashing technique."
"Exactly," Usami replied. "A technique once wielded by the one known as the King of Curses. One of the most powerful sorcerers to ever exist. Ryomen Sukuna"
The room felt heavier with each word.
"That technique," Usami continued, "was passed down to Yuji Itadori after Sukuna possessed his body for an extended period of time. The possession lasted so long that Shrine was engraved directly into Yuji's body. And later into his soul"
"That technique," he said firmly, "is absolutely dangerous."
He paced slowly. "The higher-ups believed Yuji Itadori was the only trump card of his clan. They assumed that once Yuji died, the Itadori Clan would fade into irrelevance."
"Why?" Urihime asked.
"Because Yuji's son didn't inherit Shrine," Usami answered. "So they believed Yuji was the sole anomaly."
Usami's lips curled into a knowing smile. "But they were wrong."
Everyone leaned in.
"Wasuke was born with Shrine," he said, "and the Inumaki Clan's Cursed Speech."
Silence.
"That combination," Usami finished, "classified him as special grade from birth."
Yuka's eyes widened. "That's… insane."
Tsurugi nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's actually crazy. I never knew Wasuke's story was that… lore-driven."
Aramaki swallowed. "…Then how exactly did the Itadori Clan become one of the Four Great Noble Clans?"
Usami answered without hesitation. "Because Wasuke's birth confirmed Shrine as a hereditary technique."
He continued, "Once that happened, Shrine was officially branded as a technique of the Itadori Clan. That alone qualified them as a Great Noble Clan because it meant the Itadori Clan would potentially produce more Shrine users in the future."
He let the words settle.
"And that," Usami said, "is how Wasuke Itadori Jr. changed the balance of the world."
"From that moment on," he added, "foreign countries started paying attention to him." Usami glanced around the room. "And he's one of only two special grade sorcerers currently alive."
Aramaki said nothing.
Inside, however, he was screaming.
How am I supposed to compete for a girl… with someone who literally changed the balance of the entire world?
That's not fair.
---
Somewhere else in Kyoto, far removed from the noise of classrooms and the weight of legends, a tranquil garden lay bathed in sunlight. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. At its center stood a small wooden cabin, modest and serene, an illusion of peace.
Inside, two figures sat across from one another.
One of them was a young man, calm in appearance yet sharp in presence. He wore a patterned haori, its design subtle but refined, draped loosely over his shoulders. His dark hair was cut short, framing a face that carried hints of both warmth and steel.
This was Iori Okkotsu, the son of Yuta Okkotsu and Maki Zenin, born of two legends.
Opposite him sat something that could scarcely be called human.
Its skin was unnaturally white, smooth like porcelain. Four eyes stared calmly from its face, unblinking, and its head bore a strange, rounded shape, almost like a thumb pressed upward from clay. Stitched scars ran across its forehead, crude yet deliberate, marking the seams of stolen flesh.
An alien presence.
This being was Kenjaku.
The architect of the Culling Games.
The man responsible for exposing Cursed Energy to the entire world.
The abomination that had survived Shinjuku even after being beheaded by Yuta Okkotsu himself.
Now, he occupied the body of Tengen, the progenitor of all Jujutsu. How he had done that, nobody knows.
Iori exhaled slowly, eyes lingering on Kenjaku's face. "I still can't get used to your… look," he said bluntly. "It's so weird."
Kenjaku waved the comment away dismissively. "That's irrelevant. We need to return to the topic at hand."
Iori straightened slightly. "Right. Evolving cursed energy."
"Yes," Kenjaku replied. "I failed last time due to too many interruptions, too many uncontrollable variables." His four eyes narrowed. "This time, everything will be done with careful precision."
Iori didn't hesitate. "I'm willing to do anything."
Kenjaku paused.
A thin smile crept across his face. "Tell me something, Iori," he said softly. "Why are you so obsessed with becoming stronger? Why are you so determined to make the sorcerers of this era stronger?"
He leaned back slightly. "There is no need for you to do so."
Iori looked down at his hands.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But when I look at my parents' generation… and then at my own… and the one after mine…" His fingers curled into fists. "I can't help but ask myself what went so incredibly wrong."
He lifted his gaze. "If a Sukuna-level threat appeared today, who would fight for us?"
Kenjaku tilted his head. "Yuji Itadori exists," he said calmly. "Do you not trust him?"
That question struck something raw.
"That's exactly why I'm angry," Iori snapped. "Yuji belongs to my mother's generation and even now, he's still the strongest." His jaw tightened. "No one is even close to surpassing him. No one except his own grandson."
He clenched his teeth. "If Yuji Itadori ever turned evil… the entire world would be doomed."
Kenjaku stared at him for a moment.
Then he chuckled.
"An evil Yuji Itadori," he mused. "Now that would be fascinating to witness."
"Stop joking," Iori said sharply. "What's the plan?"
Kenjaku straightened, the casual amusement draining from his expression. "Very well."
"I have a premonition," he continued. "Something is coming. Trouble on a scale the world is not prepared for."
Iori's eyes narrowed. "Trouble?"
"I cannot go into detail," Kenjaku said. "But understand this. This is our only opportunity in the foreseeable future to truly evolve cursed energy."
"I see…" Iori hesitated. "But I feel like there's a but coming."
Kenjaku chuckled again. "There is always a but."
He folded his hands. "In this case, our obstacle is Yuji Itadori and Wasuke Itadori Jr."
Iori stiffened.
"As long as those two exist," Kenjaku continued, "the growth of other sorcerers stagnates. Why struggle, adapt, or evolve… when problems can be solved effortlessly by gods walking among men?"
The words sank deep.
"So," Iori said quietly, "what do we do?"
Kenjaku looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
"Do I truly need to teach you everything, Iori?"
He sighed, then smiled.
"The solution is simple," Kenjaku said, his four eyes glinting with quiet malice.
"All we need to do… is remove Yuji Itadori and Wasuke Itadori Jr. from the chessboard."
The garden remained peaceful.
But the future had already begun to crack