“Yuta Okkotsu will be taken in by Jujutsu High.” Gojo Satoru’s voice was flat, but it carried an undeniable weight of authority.
Yuta sat hunched on a chair, knees pulled to his chest.
He looked up briefly, recognizing the strange man who had defeated Rika.
To a boy who wanted nothing more than to die, however, what difference did it make who stood before him?
Rika had noticed the man as well.
Despite the suppression of the surrounding talismans, she could sense his overwhelming presence even from a distance.
She had initially wanted to emerge and issue a warning, but she had been thoroughly beaten into submission earlier.
Rika’s current intelligence was roughly that of a three-year-old—and an uneducated one at that.
Gojo leaned down, a playful smile on his face.
“Yuta Okkotsu-kun, congratulations!
Your secret execution has been commuted to a suspended sentence.
The condition is that you have to attend a new school.
You don’t have to die anymore, so cheer up a bit!” The withdrawn teenager buried his face deep against his legs, hugging himself tightly.
His eyes were hollow.
He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t drink—he just wanted to cease to exist.
Gojo sighed.
“You’re already living in a luxury private suite with your little girlfriend.
There’s no need to be so pessimistic.” Suddenly, Yuta produced a dagger from somewhere and plunged it toward his own chest.
Before it could strike, a massive, obsidian hand erupted from his torso, catching the blade between its fingers.
With a flick of cursed energy, the steel was twisted into a gnarled coil and dropped to the floor.
Gojo reached out and picked up the mangled remains of the knife, inspecting it closely.
To manifest such power in a room saturated with sealing talismans was truly impressive.
Yuta kept his head down, whispering to the air, “Rika…
stop stopping me.” “Don’t you want to go to a new school and make some friends, Yuta-kun?” Gojo asked, puffing out his chest with mock pride.
“Besides, what’s there to worry about when I’m around?
I am the strongest, Gojo-sensei, after all.” Still curled in on himself, Yuta remembered the boy who had invited him to join the college.
“I’m not going.
I don’t want to hurt anyone else.
I’m staying right here.” Gojo fell silent for a moment.
“But being alone is lonely, isn’t it?
The curse you carry…
maybe it can be used to save people, too.
You should learn how to control that power.” “Once you’ve done that, it won’t be too late to throw everything away.” The early morning sun filtered through the gaps in the leaves, scattering fragments of light across the empty training grounds.
Rapid footsteps drummed against the pavement.
Taira no Minamoto sprinted along the synthetic track, his figure blurring as he accelerated.
To him, simple running was no longer much of a workout.
With his enhanced muscular strength and peak agility, the athletic standards of ordinary people had long since ceased to provide any challenge or enjoyment.
“He’s a total beast.
Look at him go!” Panda marveled from the sidelines.
“He’d be a natural at plowing fields.” “Mm-hmm.” “Focus, Panda!
And who are you to call someone else a ‘beast’?” Maki snapped, seizing the opening to deliver a sharp blow to Panda’s face during their sparring session.
“I’m out, I’m out!
Switch!” Panda cried.
He was no match for Maki in a straight fight; even during a heated brawl, his “Hot-Blooded Pro-Wrestler” persona only went so far before he looked for an exit.
“Katsuobushi (No thanks),” Inumaki Toge added.
It was clear he had no desire to be Maki’s punching bag this morning.
“Heck yeah!
Break time!” Panda cheered, his mood flipping instantly.
“Hey, did you guys hear?
The transfer student stuffed four of his classmates into a locker.” “Did he kill them?” Maki asked nonchalantly.
“Tuna Mayo (Is he dangerous?)” Toge wondered, looking off into the distance.
“No, just heavily injured, apparently.” “Hmph.
If he’s too arrogant, I’ll just have to teach him a lesson,” Maki said.
“Katsuobushi (Maybe don’t do that),” Inumaki cautioned.
He felt it was bad form to beat someone up on their first meeting.
Minamoto jogged over, catching the tail end of the conversation.
He couldn’t help but think that watching these three get put in their place might actually be quite entertaining.
“Hey, you’re thinking something rude right now, aren’t you?” Maki noticed Minamoto’s mischievous smirk and immediately aimed a kick at him.
“You know the transfer student, don’t you?
What’s his deal?” It seemed even Maki didn’t want to go in blind; she was actually fishing for intel.
“He’s pretty weak,” Minamoto said with a straight face.
“Thin build, no talent for sorcery.” The trio looked at him with sheer disbelief.
If he was that pathetic, how did he manage a one-versus-four victory and successfully lock them in a cupboard?
Minamoto wasn’t technically lying—Yuta himself was a pushover.
It was his Cursed Spirit girlfriend who was the real powerhouse.
I can’t wait for class to start, Minamoto thought.
Class time arrived in the blink of an eye.
The three second-years, their interest piqued, had been waiting since 9:00 AM.
It was now almost 9:30, and Gojo Satoru was nowhere to be found.
They had reached a state of catatonic boredom, staring blankly into space.
Only Minamoto was unfazed, sprawled across his desk and snoring loudly.
Toge watched him with envy, torn between the desire to nap and the fear of being caught.
Whoosh!
Gojo burst into the room, his fingers framing his eyes like a masked hero.
“Let’s introduce the transfer student!!!
Everybody, look alive!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
The atmosphere was…
non-existent.
The students were practically comatose.
Gojo’s attempts at a high-energy buildup fell completely flat.
“Too loud, Gojo-sensei,” Maki said, adjusting her glasses.
“You’re acting like a total brat.
No one’s going to get hyped for a guy like that.” “Salmon (Agreed).” “What she said,” Panda muttered.
As for Minamoto, he didn’t even flinch.
A man who pulls all-nighters fears nothing.
Gojo sighed, giving up.
He was a man who famously couldn’t read the room, but even he knew when he’d struck out.
“Fine, fine.
Just come on in!” Outside the door, Yuta Okkotsu felt a wave of dread.
Teacher, please try harder…
Am I already hated before I even walked in?
He slid the door open and stepped inside.
He was wearing a white uniform—the specific color designated for “problem students.” The trio’s eyes locked onto him, their pupils shrinking to pinpricks (or at least Maki and Toge’s did; Panda’s were always dots).
The boy didn’t look like much.
He was about 170cm tall, frail, and had a perpetual look of “please don’t hurt me” on his face.
A total pushover.
“I’m…
Yuta Okkotsu.
Nice to meet you,” he squeaked.
Despite his weak demeanor, the reaction was instantaneous.
Panda donned his brass knuckles, Maki unzipped her weapon bag and brandished her naginata, and Toge zipped down his collar to reveal his marks.
The three of them overturned their desks and lunged toward the front of the room.
A distorted, looming Cursed Spirit hovered behind the boy, its form a blur of shadows.
The gleaming blade of the naginata slammed into the chalkboard, pinning itself just an inch from Yuta’s throat.
Terrified, he collapsed back against the board.
Yuta had spent his life in normal schools; he’d been bullied, sure, but he’d never had a spear thrust at his neck.
His legs turned to jelly.
Maki glared at him like a seasoned delinquent.
“Hey.
You’re cursed.
This is a place to study curses.
Why would a cursed bastard like you come here?” “Ah…” Minamoto finally yawned and sat up.
“Hey, Okkotsu-kun.
Small world.” Yuta looked at the familiar face.
Even though they’d only met once, seeing Minamoto in this den of lions was like finding a lifeline.
“G-Good morning…” He still didn’t know the boy’s name.
“I’m glad you’re here, Minamoto,” Gojo said, leaning back.
“Why don’t you explain the situation to him?
Handling the paperwork and the transfer was exhausting enough.” Apparently, explaining the basics was beneath the “Strongest.” Minamoto cleared his throat.
“Okkotsu-kun, in Japan, the number of unexplained deaths and disappearances averages over 10,000 per year.
A huge portion of those are caused by ‘Curses’—negative emotions leaking out of the human body.
That includes the malicious incidents caused by Curse Users.
Only a ‘Curse’ can fight a ‘Curse.’ This is the place where we study how to exorcise them.
Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.” After the long-winded explanation, Minamoto’s throat felt dry.
Yuta’s neck creaked like it needed oil as he slowly turned to look at Gojo, his face a mask of shock.
His expression said it all: You didn’t think this was important?
We spent all night talking about ‘dreams’ and ‘ideals’ instead of this?
The rest of the class shot Gojo a look of pure exasperation.
They were well aware of his eccentricity, but sending someone to school without explaining what the school was was a new low.
Minamoto could only think: Classic Gojo.
Gojo gave a half-hearted apologetic gesture and began backing toward the window.
Minamoto silently grabbed his own desk and started sliding backward as well.
They both knew: Yuta’s “little girlfriend” was waking up.
Out of a lingering sense of camaraderie, Minamoto shouted a warning: “Everyone, get back!
Get away from him!” The trio looked at him, confused.
This weakling?
Maki could take a dozen like him.
Then, the air curdled.
“DON’T BULLY YUTA!!”