The orphanage in the suburbs of Sendai was a place of fading wallpaper and the smell of cheap miso. For Ren, it was a training ground.
While the other children played tag, five-year-old Ren sat under a withered ginkgo tree, his eyes closed. He was learning the Internal Flow. With the Tenseigan, he could see his own Cursed Energy—a flickering, white-blue flame. With the Rinne-Sharingan, he could see the "lag" in reality, the way time dragged slightly around heavy objects.
One afternoon, a group of older bullies cornered a younger girl behind the tool shed. They were kicking dust in her face, their small hearts full of the petty malice that eventually birthed Cursed Spirits.
Ren didn't even stand up. He just looked at them over his shoulder.
He didn't use an attack. He simply let a 0.01% leak of his intent slip out. The air around the bullies froze. They felt a sudden, crushing weight on their shoulders, as if an invisible giant had placed a thumb on their heads. They fell to their knees, gasping for air, unable to understand why the "quiet kid" suddenly looked like a mountain.
"Leave," Ren said. The word carried a vibration that rattled their teeth.
They scrambled away, sobbing. Ren sighed, his eyes returning to their dull, hidden state. 'Controlling this is harder than using it,' he thought.
The stone steps leading up to Tokyo Jujutsu High were steep, flanked by towering cedars that seemed to swallow the sunlight. Ren walked them with a slow, rhythmic pace. He wasn't breathing hard; his Tenseigan allowed him to optimize his body's oxygen intake to a molecular level.
He reached the massive torii gate at the summit and stopped.
There, leaning against a stone pillar, was a boy with spiky pink hair, wearing a casual hoodie and a look of pure confusion. Beside him stood a tall, leaning figure draped in black—Gojo Satoru.
"Oh? Here's our second guest!" Gojo chirped, waving a hand.
Yuji Itadori turned around. His eyes widened as Ren approached. Even in a simple black high-collared jacket, Ren carried an air of stillness that didn't belong to a teenager. It was the stillness of a deep ocean.
"Whoa, you're a student too?" Yuji asked, stepping forward. "I'm Itadori Yuji! I'm... well, I'm basically on death row, I think?" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
Ren stopped three paces away. He looked at Yuji—not at his face, but at the soul twisted inside him. Through his dark lenses, the 12-Tomoe Rinne-Sharingan saw the flickering, jagged crimson aura of Ryomen Sukuna. The King of Curses was resting, but the mere presence of Ren's eyes caused the "mouth" on Yuji's hand to twitch involuntarily.
"Ren," he replied simply.
"Just Ren? No family name?" Yuji tilted his head.
"I'm an orphan," Ren said, his voice flat but not cold. "Names are just labels. I'm here because I have no other place to be."
Gojo stepped between them, his grin widening. "Ren-kun here was a special recommendation. No lineage, no clan, just... a very 'peculiar' set of talents. Right, Ren?"
Ren didn't answer. He was staring at the school buildings ahead. "The Principal is waiting. We're late."
The Interview: Silence and Pressure
Inside the dark hall of the training room, Principal Yaga sat surrounded by his cursed corpses, his needles moving with rhythmic precision.
Yuji went first. His interview was loud, emotional, and ended with him getting pummeled by a stuffed bear until he realized his "purpose."
Then, it was Ren's turn.
Yuji sat on the floor, panting and bruised, watching as Ren stepped into the center of the room. The atmosphere changed instantly. The stuffed bears, which had been hopping around aggressively, suddenly stopped. They backed away into the shadows, their simple cursed cores sensing something... predatory.
Yaga looked up, his sunglasses reflecting the dim candlelight. "And you. Why are you here, Ren? To save people? To find meaning?"
"To ensure I am the one holding the leash," Ren said.
Yaga stopped his needles. "A hunger for power? That's a path that leads to becoming a Curse, boy."
"Not power," Ren corrected softly. "Perspective. I've seen what happens when the weak are at the mercy of the strong. I've decided to simply be the strongest. That way, the mercy is mine to give."
Yaga stood up, the ground beneath him cracking slightly. He sent his strongest Cursed Corpse—a massive, brawny doll—lunging at Ren.
"Show me your 'mercy' then!" Yaga barked.
Ren didn't move his arms. He didn't even drop his glasses.
"Output: 2%," Ren whispered.
As the doll's fist was an inch from his face, a ripple of distorted space appeared. The doll didn't hit him; it hit an invisible, localized wall of gravity.
"Shinra Tensei: Point Pressure."
A microscopic burst of repulsive force hit the doll's chest. It wasn't a big explosion—it was a surgical strike. The massive doll was sent flying backward, slamming into the wooden pillars with such force that the entire hall groaned. It didn't break the doll; it simply pinned it to the wall, suspended in mid-air by a gravity well it couldn't escape.
Yuji's jaw dropped. "What the... he didn't even touch it!"
Yaga stared at the doll, then at Ren. He could feel the sheer, refined quality of the cursed energy. It wasn't messy or hateful; it was divine. It felt like the air before a lightning strike.
"You're hiding 90% of what you are," Yaga noted, his voice dropping an octave.
"More like 98%," Ren replied, pushing his glasses up. "May I go to my dorm now?"
Yaga sat back down, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "Gojo... where did you find this one?"
"In the stars, probably," Gojo laughed, though his own 'Six Eyes' were working overtime to analyze the gravitational distortion Ren had just created.
The Meeting: The Second Years
As Ren and Yuji walked toward the dorms, they passed the training field.
Maki Zen'in was there, wiping sweat from her brow after a session with her polearm. She saw the two new first-years—the loud pink-haired one and the quiet one in the back.
Her eyes locked onto Ren. She felt a phantom pain in her chest, a primal instinct screaming at her that the boy in the glasses was the most dangerous thing on the mountain.
"Oi, Gojo!" Maki called out, her voice sharp. "Which one of these is the vessel?"
"The loud one is the vessel," Gojo pointed to Yuji. "The quiet one... well, let's just say he's the 'insurance policy'."
Maki hopped over the fence, landing in front of Ren. She was taller than most girls, with a fierce, commanding presence. She thrust the butt of her spear toward Ren's stomach—a test of reflexes.
Ren caught it. Not with his hand, but by tilting his body just enough that the spear slid past his ribs, trapped between his arm and his torso.
Maki's eyes widened. "Fast. And you didn't even look."
"I don't need to look to see you, Maki-san," Ren said. He let go of the spear.
Maki smirked, a competitive fire lighting up in her eyes. "Good. We need someone who isn't a total scrub. Don't think those fancy glasses make you special, though. Strength is everything here."
"I agree," Ren said, his eyes glowing faintly behind the tint. "Strength is everything."