Location: Kyoto, Japan
Time: 1893
CLANG.
Steel hammers hit the railroad tracks in the capital city.
Civilian workers built universities out of red brick.
They laid down train lines and wore western leather boots.
The year was 1893.
The Meiji Era pushed Japan into a rapid, modern future.
But the Jujutsu world ignored the changing era completely.
Behind the high wooden walls of Kyoto, time stood completely still.
The Gojo, the Zenin, and the Kamo families refused to send their children to civilian schools.
Mathematics and western science held zero value against a cursed spirit.
Bloodlines, inherited techniques, and cursed energy dictated a person's entire worth.
Out of the Big Three families, the Kamo clan enforced the most rigid traditions. They bypassed standard education entirely.
They subjected their children to strict indoctrination.
Children as young as four years old were placed into daily, grueling training camps.
They needed to be broken and molded before their cursed energy ever awakened.
Their daily lives were divided into strict categories of clan politics, physical conditioning, and occult theory.
For their classical education, young children memorized extensive clan genealogy. They studied the family trees to understand exactly who held power in the main estate.
They mastered formal bowing, specific speech patterns, and traditional tea ceremonies. They needed flawless etiquette to interact with the elite members of the Gojo and Zenin clans.
They practiced reading and writing complex kanji and ancient poetry.
Even without active cursed energy, a Kamo child was expected to become a peak physical specimen.
They started early training in traditional archery and swordsmanship.
They swung wooden blades to build posture and raw muscle memory.
They sat in the seiza kneeling position for hours on hard wooden floorboards.
This specific torture developed the extreme mental fortitude required to control their emotions.
Human emotion served as the literal source of all cursed energy.
They endured harsh physical conditioning every single afternoon.
If a prized innate technique like Blood Manipulation ever manifested, their young bodies had to handle the massive physical toll.
The elders also forced them to learn Jujutsu theory early. They trained their eyes to notice the faint, heavy residue left behind by wandering curses.
They studied Onmyodo, the traditional Japanese yin-yang sorcery. They memorized the mechanics of barrier techniques, paper talismans, and shikigami familiars.
The clan elders constantly reminded the children of the weight of failure.
The elders reinforced that a clan member's life held zero value unless they inherited a powerful technique.
The dark history of this Jujutsu world mirrored the real world perfectly.
For a soul born in the modern era of 2026, this environment served as a cage.
A modern mind expected the freedom to speak and complain. A modern person expected to express their individuality.
In the Meiji Era Kamo clan, speaking out of turn brought the bamboo stick. Showing individual emotion was a punishable offense.
The sprawling tile roofs of the main Kamo estate cast long shadows over the dirt paths.
The dirt paths led far down the hill to a small, isolated wooden dojo in the branch family quarters.
Inside the dojo, twenty small children knelt on the tatami mats in agonizing silence.
--<>--
Location: Kamo Clan Training Grounds
Time: 10:00 AM
STOMP. STOMP.
Kamo Shigeru paced across the front of the room.
Shigeru served as a Grade 2 sorcerer.
Thick, twisted burn scars covered the entire right side of his face.
He was missing his right ear.
"...Those non-sorcerers are building brick schools and universities," Shigeru spat.
He dragged a long bamboo stick across the floorboards.
SCRAPE.
"They wear western clothes," Shigeru continued. "...They brought foreign books in this country."
He stopped pacing. He turned to face the children.
"It is all completely useless," Shigeru said. "Americans, Germans or whatever the Japan society adapt doesn't matter for us."
Hanzo kept his eyes glued to the tatami mat.
He sat in the traditional seiza position. His knees screamed in pain.
He had been kneeling for two straight hours. His calves were entirely numb.
He didn't move a single muscle.
"...A civilian education means nothing to us," Shigeru said. He pointed his bamboo stick at the front row. "We are the Kamo clan."
Shigeru stepped closer to the kneeling children.
"We rely on blood," Shigeru stated. "We rely on jujutsu."
Step. Step.
He stopped right in front of a boy sitting two mats away from Hanzo.
The boy's name was Ren. He was five years old.
Ren stared at the tip of the bamboo stick hovering inches from his face.
A drop of sweat rolled down Ren's cheek.
"...Ren," Shigeru said quietly.
Ren swallowed hard.
GULP.
"Y-Yes, Shigeru-sensei," Ren stammered.
Shigeru narrowed his remaining eye.
"What is the primary duty of a Kamo family member?" Shigeru asked.
Ren opened his mouth. No words came out.
His small hands gripped his gray hakama pants. They shook violently.
"...To... to serve..." Ren whispered.
WHACK.
Shigeru slammed the bamboo stick against the wooden floor right next to Ren's knee.
Ren flinched and squeezed his eyes shut.
"You stutter," Shigeru reminded. "... And you hesitated."
Shigeru lifted the stick and rested it on his own shoulder.
"The Gojo clan will exploit your weakness," Shigeru told him. "The Zenin clan will laugh at your fear."
Ren lowered his head until his forehead almost touched the mat.
"...I apologize, sensei," Ren mumbled.
Shigeru turned his head. His cold gaze swept across the room.
His eyes landed directly on Hanzo.
"...Hanzo," Shigeru called out.
Hanzo didn't flinch.
He kept his posture perfectly straight. He raised his head just enough to look at Shigeru's chest.
"Yes, sensei," Hanzo replied.
His voice was clear. He kept his tone completely normal.
"Explain the principles of barrier techniques," Shigeru demanded.
Hanzo stared at the dark fabric of Shigeru's kimono.
'Just act normal.'
"Our barriers are rooted in traditional Onmyodo," Hanzo answered immediately.
He didn't pause to think. He had memorized the clan scrolls weeks ago. After all memorization wasn't new to him.
"...We utilize the flow of yin and yang to establish area," Hanzo continued. "The strength of the barrier depends entirely on the cursed energy output of the caster and the purity of the talisman."
Shigeru stared at him. "Good... You're listening well."
Hanzo kept his face completely blank.
He acted exactly like a brainwashed, obedient child of a traditionalist clan.
'This society is incredibly stiff.'
Hanzo thought about his past life in India.
He remembered the freedom of his old engineering classes. He could complain about the heavy workload. He could laugh with his friends in the hallways.
Here, showing emotion was a weakness.
Hanzo knew exactly how extreme the Jujutsu world was. The stronger the sorcerer, the crazier their values.
He needed to stay completely under the radar.
He would play the perfect extra. He would act exactly like a normal Kamo Clan member.
Until his cursed energy and innate technique actually awakened. Before planning for the future.
After all, there is a possibility for him not having an innate technique or maybe he will awaken the inherited cursed technique, blood manipulation.
"... That is correct," Shigeru grunted.
Shigeru turned his back to Hanzo and walked toward the chalkboard.
"We will now review the genealogy of the main family line," Shigeru announced.
HUFF-PUFF.
Hanzo slowly exhaled through his nose.
He blended right back into the background.
--<>--
Time: 03:15 PM
The wooden doors of the branch school slid open.
SLIDE.
Hanzo stepped onto the dirt path. The afternoon sun hit his face.
Twenty branch children poured out of the dojo right behind him.
"...Ah, my knees are killing me," Ren complained.
Ren rubbed his kneecaps through his gray hakama.
"Shigeru-sensei is terrifying," a young boy named Daiki added. "...But I heard he killed a Moryo last month."
[A/n; Grade 2 curses = Moryo (Beast).
Modern terms and grading system isn't yet created before the establishment of Jujutsu High.]
"I just want to go home and eat," another boy muttered.
A young girl named Yumi jogged up beside Hanzo.
"...How did you do it, Hanzo?" Yumi asked.
Hanzo stopped walking and looked at her.
"Do what?" Hanzo asked.
"...You answered the barrier question perfectly," Yumi said. She adjusted the sleeves of her kimono. "...You didn't even hesitate. What is your secret?"
The surrounding children stopped talking and looked at him.
Hanzo rubbed the back of his neck and smiled.
"...I just trace the kanji in the dirt outside my house every night," Hanzo replied. "I keep doing it until I memorize the shapes."
He dropped his hand and pointed at Ren.
"...Besides, Ren has much better sword forms than I do," Hanzo added. "And Yumi can hold her seiza posture way longer."
Ren blinked in surprise. A wide smile spread across Ren's face.
"...Yeah, my dad makes me swing the wooden sword a hundred times a day," Ren boasted.
Yumi stood a little taller. The tension in the group completely dissolved.
"My mom says my cursed energy will wake up this or next year," Daiki said excitedly. "...I hope I get a strong technique."
"Me too," Ren agreed.
They started walking down the dirt path together.
Hanzo walked right in the middle of the group.
He knew these children would eventually become his squadmates.
He needed them to like him. After all having connections in this world is a smart move.
--<>--
Location: Hanzo's House
Hanzo pushed his front door open.
SHHHHK.
He took off his wooden sandals in the narrow entryway.
Step. Step.
He walked into the main room.
Kamo Noboru sat on a cushion at the low dining table.
Noboru was Hanzo's biological father in this life.
He worked as a Grade 3 sorcerer for the clan.
Noboru rubbed his eyes with his left hand. Dark bags hung under his lower eyelids.
He held a white cloth in his right hand. He wiped dark red stains off a short blade.
"...You are back," Noboru said.
His voice was hoarse. He sounded completely exhausted.
"Yes, Father," Hanzo answered. He bowed his head.
Noboru set the blade down on the wooden table.
CLINK.
He let out a long sigh and slumped his shoulders forward.
"...How were the classes today?" Noboru asked.
"I memorized the Onmyodo texts," Hanzo replied. "Shigeru-sensei reviewed the barrier theories."
Noboru nodded slowly. He reached across the table.
He pushed a small, green leaf wrapping across the wood.
SLIDE.
"...Eat this," Noboru grunted. "I brought it back from the town below."
Hanzo looked at the wrapped rice ball.
"Thank you, Father," Hanzo said.
Noboru picked up the white cloth again.
"...We branch members survive by being useful, Hanzo," Noboru said quietly.
He wiped a stubborn bloodstain near the hilt of the short blade.
"...Let us hope your cursed energy awakens soon," Noboru continued. "...Any basic innate technique will give you a good life."
Hanzo sat down on the cushion across from him.
"...What about Blood Manipulation?" Hanzo asked.
Noboru shook his head.
"Do not fill your head with impossible dreams," Noboru told him. "...Neither my father or my grandfather nor your late mother's family ever manifested the inherited technique."
Noboru looked directly at Hanzo.
"...We do not have the luck for it," Noboru stated. "But strong cursed energy manipulation is more than enough to survive."
Hanzo stared at the rice ball.
He thought about Baba laughing and pouring tea in his old Indian home.
Noboru was different.
Noboru was a scarred, tired man facing the harsh reality of the Jujutsu world.
Hanzo found the interaction slightly awkward.
'... But he is practical... Still I can't seem to view him as my father.'
Hanzo respected that. Noboru wasn't feeding him blind fanaticism.
"I understand, Father," Hanzo said.
He reached out and took the rice ball.
--<>--
Location: Hanzo's Bedroom
Time: 08:00 PM
The small candle flickered on the floorboard.
FSSS.
Hanzo sat cross-legged on his tatami mat.
He held a long paper scroll across his lap.
He dragged his finger across the ink characters.
'The anime skipped all of this.'
He read the official clan hierarchy and the logistical job assignments for branch members.
He needed to learn the actual mechanics of the clan to survive.
The manga never explained barrier shift schedules or branch family taxes.
He rolled the scroll up and set it aside.
He grabbed a different scroll from his wooden chest.
It held the public lineage of the main family.
He unrolled it across the floor. He scanned the names of the current elders.
He moved his eyes down the list.
He stopped at the very top of the hierarchy tree.
He stared at the bold kanji written in the center of the page.
It listed the name of the absolute Clan Head.
Kamo Noritoshi.
Hanzo stared at the name.
He looked at the date marked on the corner of the scroll. It was 1893.
A thoughful expression crossed his face.
'Noritoshi Kamo.'
Every single Jujutsu Kaisen fan knew that name.
Noritoshi Kamo was remembered as the most evil sorcerer in history. He created the Death Painting Wombs.
'Kenjaku.'
The brain-hopping mastermind was literally running the estate right now.
'Prison Mommy is disguised as an old man living up the hill.'
Hanzo shook his head in amusement.
He didn't panic or feel of fear.
Kenjaku was currently conducting century-long experiments and planning the Culling Games.
A four-year-old branch kid who is yet to awaken cursed energy was completely beneath the monster's notice.
As long as Hanzo didn't miraculously awaken Blood Manipulation, Kenjaku would never even look in his direction.
He was perfectly safe as a nobody.
Hanzo rolled the scroll up quickly.
He leaned forward and blew a quick breath at the candle.
FWOOSH.
The room went completely dark.
"Hopefully I can awaken my cursed energy soon."
...