“In fact, he was no more than a dumb and motionless shell, breathing in silence, letting time slowly erode his whole body, while he himself did not feel it rotting.” — Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo Night had fallen.
A full moon cast its boundless radiance upon the towering pagoda.
During the day, Tokyo Jujutsu High maintained the facade of an ancient, tranquil temple, but by night, even the most beautiful moonlight could not mask the rot festering within.
Gojo Satoru hummed a tune as he wound through the traditional pavilions.
The eerie cawing of crows seemed to join him in a macabre chorus, creating a scene as bizarre as it was unsettling.
As he climbed the winding stairs of the pagoda, staff members from the “Windows” and Assistant Directors—all clad in black suits—lined the hallway, bowing deeply as he passed.
No matter how flighty or unreliable this man appeared, anyone connected to the jujutsu world was required to show him absolute respect.
Pinned to their chests were the Manji emblems of Jujutsu High.
Under the artificial light, these brass badges reflected a bright sheen, yet they always seemed to carry a certain gloom.
At the end of the corridor stood a black wooden door.
A woman in a white kimono knelt before it.
She slid the door open and prostrated herself, performing a formal kowtow to Gojo.
Once he stepped inside, she respectfully closed the door behind him.
Gojo continued his humming, appearing completely indifferent.
In truth, he was anything but.
He had spotted the Zen’in clan crest on the woman’s garment.
If Maki hadn’t come to Jujutsu High, she would have ended up as a machine just like her, he thought.
It seemed today’s mission was a request from the Zen’in family.
He wondered what price they had paid to get him to agree.
His humming grew louder.
“Hmph.
Hey, you old farts, why are you sitting here with the lights off?
Scared of being seen?” These were the members of the Jujutsu Headquarters.
They were the ones Gojo frequently referred to as a “Rotten Orange Clearance Sale.” These elders possessed absolute power, gatekeeping the jujutsu world with the sole intent of controlling others and saving their own skins.
They were a coalition of idiots: hereditary idiots, arrogant idiots, and just plain, simple idiots.
“Gojo Satoru, remember your station!
As the head of the Gojo clan, watch your tone!” Before Gojo could even finish his thought, one of the “idiots” couldn’t resist barking out a reprimand.
Gojo stood in the center of the room, surrounded by elders hidden behind sliding shoji screens.
Their voices came from all directions, overlapping as they attacked him.
It was always the same routine: find a fault, offer a “favor,” and then toss a mission his way as if it were a divine gift.
Gojo reached out and slid one of the screens open with a sharp clack.
“Say it to my face.
A rat hiding in the sewer dares to open its mouth at a lion?” The voices stopped instantly.
“Cowards.
What’s the price for my services, Zen’in clan?” Growing bored, Gojo decided to stop toyng with these old men.
They were like light-shunning pill bugs, treating their damp, dark corners like heaven.
Truly pathetic.
A shrill voice finally spoke up.
“Gojo Satoru…
During a recent mission, one Grade 2 sorcerer and two members of The Hei were left critically injured.
Among them is a Grade 1 sorcerer.
You are required to take over this mission.
The target is to be taken into custody by the Headquarters.” Gojo’s interest finally piqued.
What kind of mission could make these old men so serious that they’d pay any price just to capture a target alive?
A slow, raspy female voice added, “As payment for your intervention, the Grade 2 promotion audit for your student, Taira no Minamoto, will be approved.” “How disgusting.
Playing fast and loose with the very foundation of the jujutsu world,” Gojo remarked.
“I’ll take it, old men.
Have Ijichi find me later.” Gojo waved a hand dismissively and walked out.
He couldn’t stand staying in that foul place for another second.
The massive doors slammed shut.
The creaking of wood against the floor acted as a signal, and the silence of the room was instantly shattered.
The atmosphere turned as chaotic as a wet market.
The “benevolent” elders transformed into starving ghouls, greedy and ignorant, frantically swallowing up whatever benefits they could grab.
“Hey, this will work, right?
We can kill him this time!” “Impossible.
Even with that thing, we can only hope to test the limits of what he’s capable of.” “What about the Taira family?
We promised to fast-track the kid’s promotion.” “Let it drag.
We’ll talk about it after he finishes the mission.
What right does a family of traitors have to complain?” The next morning, Taira no Minamoto was doing his morning run around the mountain.
Cherry blossoms carpeted the path, making the scenery look like a painting.
He realized it was a beautiful season.
Mid-spring was fading into early summer—the most beautiful time in Japan.
The blossoms were in full bloom, and the air was thick with the scent of youth.
Too bad my classmates are all stuck in bed staring at the ceiling, Minamoto thought.
Guess us “tough guys” get all the luck.
He approached the largest cherry blossom tree on the path, where the flowers were most vibrant.
Suddenly, a mop of white hair emerged from the petals—instantly ruining the aesthetic.
“Gojo-sensei, what are you doing here?
The others are still recovering; don’t tell me you want to give me a solo special training session?
My wounds just healed, I haven’t even taken the bandages off yet!” Minamoto fell into a defensive stance, looking at Gojo with pure suspicion.
“Minamoto-kun, the organization has a very important mission for you,” Gojo said, his voice dripping with faux-temptation.
“Want to come along?
The rewards are very generous.” Minamoto gave him a look of pure disdain.
“I’m not exactly hurting for cash, Sensei.
If it’s your mission, do it yourself.
It’s good for you to move around once in a while.” “Not even if it means becoming a Grade 2 Sorcerer?
As the head of the Gojo clan, I can…
pull a few strings for you.” Gojo put on his most influential air, looking like a man with “connections.” Minamoto’s lip curled.
“You and my family are two peas in a pod.
If you really had that much power, I would have been Grade 2 ages ago.” Gojo leaned in.
“This time it’s for real.
Assist me with this mission, and the promotion is yours.
Come on, say yes.” Seeing that Gojo didn’t look like he was lying, Minamoto immediately agreed, nearly jumping for joy.
Becoming a Grade 2 sorcerer meant he could take on individual missions—it felt wrong to keep spending his family’s money so lavishly.
Once he agreed, Gojo waved to someone in the distance.
Ijichi appeared almost instantly.
Seeing how fast the Assistant Director arrived, Minamoto felt a nagging sensation that he had just been played.
Ijichi looked more haggard than ever, clearly tormented by Gojo’s recent whims.
Minamoto gave him an “I feel your pain” look and took the mission file from his hand.
Report — November 2016, Tokyo A case of relentless school bullying.
Four male students, including the ringleader, were severely injured.
Status — Present Day After an investigation by the “Windows,” it has been confirmed as the work of a Cursed Spirit.
As a precaution, a Grade 2 sorcerer was dispatched for exorcism; they were left in critical condition.
An emergency request was made to the Zen’in clan.
They dispatched two members of “The Hei” as reinforcements; they were also left in critical condition.
The incident has been upgraded to a Special Grade Event.
It is recommended to dispatch a Special Grade Sorcerer for support.
The target currently shows no homicidal tendencies and is hiding in a warehouse in the western suburbs.