March 15, 2005.
Speaking of Yasui’s road to enrollment, it was quite a convoluted journey.
The reason was simple: Yasui possessed the Reverse Cursed Technique, and his Reverse Cursed Technique worked not only on himself, but could also be output onto others.
This made him a rare resource in the entire Jujutsu world—so rare that in the existing records of Tokyo Jujutsu High, the number of people who could output Reverse Cursed Technique externally could be counted on one hand.
Shoko Ieiri was one of them, and Yasui was another.
This should have been a good thing.
The problem, however, lay in his extraordinarily unique physique.
It was unique to the point that one couldn’t help but suspect God had accidentally checked an extra box when designing him—attracting Cursed Spirits.
Yes, attracting Cursed Spirits.
Yasui was the bright light seen by a swarm of moths in the night (or perhaps a flame, considering how moths fly into the fire to seek their own destruction).
As long as those Cursed Spirits were anywhere near him, they would be drawn toward him entirely against their own will.
On his very first day, he managed to lure out nearly half the Cursed Spirits in Hachioji.
Four of them.
One Grade 4 Cursed Spirit, two Grade 3 Cursed Spirits, and one Grade 1 Cursed Spirit.
For a prospective High student who hadn’t even officially enrolled yet, boasting a record like this was indeed quite intimidating to speak of.
Yet while it sounded formidable, it also thoroughly terrified the Jujutsu higher-ups.
It wasn’t that they feared a new student who could fight—well, fine, those bastards actually *did* fear a new student who could fight.
Suguru Geto’s massive Cursed Energy reserves and overall capabilities were exceptionally rare, but rare as they were, they at least fell within a fathomable range.
Yasui did not belong to that range.
A physique that automatically attracted Cursed Spirits, combined with a talent capable of outputting Reverse Cursed Technique onto others—weighed together on the Jujutsu higher-ups’ scale, the pointer snapped straight to the “Threat” mark.
And so, whispers began to circulate within the higher-ups’ ranks.
Someone suggested taking out this unexploded bomb before he grew familiar with the Japanese Jujutsu world and established bonds with his future sorcerer peers.
A secret execution—clean and swift.
They could casually make up an excuse afterward to gloss it over, and no one would ever press the issue.
The order was issued, and an executor was dispatched.
A Grade 2 Jujutsu Sorcerer, seasoned and adept at stealth and assassination, was assigned to handle the matter.
Yet, he couldn’t find a way to strike.
The reason was equally simple.
Suguru Geto remained in the hotel room with Yasui, never stepping away for a single second.
That prospective student viewed by the higher-ups as having the highest potential, that Suguru Geto whose monstrous Cursed Energy caused people to frown, seemed to have naturally bound himself to Yasui ever since eating his tempura on the rooftop that day.
The two of them holed up in the hotel room.
Yasui lay lazily on the bed, his long black hair spread across the mattress, talking absolute trash with Geto.
From whether Cursed Spirits could be eaten with wasabi to why convenience stores didn’t sell soy milk, he even threw in a few questions asking how Geto viewed the taste of Cursed Spirits—his words dense, rapid, and utterly incomprehensible.
Geto sat on a chair nearby like an old man being tormented by a chatterbox grandkid, listening while wearing a polite yet gradually stiffening smile.
Occasionally he’d reply with a phrase or two, occasionally he wouldn’t reply at all, but he simply refused to leave.
He didn’t dare make a move, because Yasui wasn’t alone in that room.
Setting aside Geto’s terrifyingly suffocating reserves of Cursed Energy—
That sheer volume of Cursed Energy generated a sense of pressure just by standing nearby.
Even as far as Yasui himself was concerned, his Cursed Energy was by no means weak.
A two-on-one scenario offered him no certainty of success.
More importantly, Geto was a key target marked for nurturing by the higher-ups; if Geto were accidentally harmed during the operation, no one could bear the responsibility.
Haha, or perhaps Geto wouldn’t be accidentally harmed, but rather the assassin himself would be beaten to death by Geto.
And so he could only wait, waiting for Geto to leave, waiting for Yasui to be isolated.
Yet Geto simply wouldn’t leave.
When it was time to eat, the two went to the convenience store together, Yasui grabbing items while Geto stood beside him checking the price tags.
At night, Geto slept in the hotel room right next door to Yasui’s.
Waking up early, they could still spend ten whole minutes blabbering nonsense over the question of “why not eat steamed buns and fried dough sticks for breakfast.”
Yasui was naturally aware of it.
Someone was watching him.
That Grade 2 Jujutsu Sorcerer was hidden quite well, likely possessing an innate technique related to concealment.
Yet he couldn’t overcome the fact that Yasui’s scope of perception was far broader than that of an ordinary person.
He knew someone was trying to kill him, and he knew why that person hadn’t made a move.
He personally didn’t care in the slightest.
Getting injured was whatever; as long as he wasn’t instakilled, he could use Reverse Cursed Technique to recover.
Every recovery earned him a point.
The more he got beaten, the stronger he became.
Tallying it all up, he actually felt like trying out what an assassination felt like.
However, Geto was in the way—this guy was an obstacle.
Yasui had subtly dropped hints to Geto several times.
Not explicitly saying “someone is trying to kill me, get lost,” but in his own peculiar way.
For instance, suddenly saying, “Geto, why don’t you go back to your own house?” or “Do you not have any other friends to play with?” or simply blurting out, “Hahaha, I think you could go outside to breathe some fresh air.
How about you roll on out?
Classmate Geto~”
When saying “roll on out” in a Kansai dialect, the ending tone curved upward, making it sound less like an insult and more like a joke.
Coupled with the fact that Geto had seen how Yasui chatted with others—his speech system was utterly infuriating, rude words constantly popping out of his mouth.
Geto merely looked at him, offering a gentle smile.
That smile was exceptionally steady, so steady it seemed as if he hadn’t understood a single thing.
He lowered his head, flipping a page of a magazine he had picked up at some point, his tone even: “It looks like it’s going to rain outside today.”
Yasui stared at him for two seconds before collapsing back onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow and pulling the blanket over himself.
Yasui believed:
Protect the weak.
That was the set of beliefs running inside Geto’s head.
Yasui didn’t know whether he counted as “the weak” in Geto’s eyes.
Or rather, the act of protecting others was, in itself, as natural as breathing to Geto.
He didn’t need the other party to admit they were weak, nor did he need their gratitude; he simply felt it was the right thing to do, and so he did it.
Yasui summed it up as: Geto was a good person—a good person with a god complex.
And people like that were troublesome.
Usually very troublesome.
Satoru Gojo was someone with a god complex, and so was Suguru Geto.
One believed that the stronger one’s power was, the greater the responsibility to act as “God.”
The other was a “God” carrying the righteous doctrine of “the strong protect the weak.”
Yasui closed his eyes and went to sleep, paying no mind to Geto, nor to that foolish Grade 2 sorcerer.
He could already dispatch a Grade 1 Cursed Spirit; for a Grade 2 sorcerer to accept an assassination mission on him, if he wasn’t a dumbass, who was?
Regarding Yasui’s belief that Geto protected him because he viewed Yasui as weak, that premise simply didn’t hold up.
The truth was, Geto didn’t view him as weak in the slightest.
Only a madman would consider someone who wiped out four Cursed Spirits in a matter of minutes as “weak.”
He viewed him as a companion—a companion who spoke in an amusing way, who was a sorcerer just like himself, and who was by no means weak.
Geto rarely encountered peers of his own age who were also Jujutsu Sorcerers.
Seeing that the path of assassination was a dead end, the Jujutsu higher-ups shifted their approach—recruitment.
If they couldn’t kill him, they’d bring him in and keep a close eye on him under their noses.
That was still better than letting him run wild outside.
Yoshinobu Gakuganji over in Kyoto actually inclined toward recruiting him.
Yasui’s ability to output Reverse Cursed Technique externally was a precious strategic resource for any Jujutsu organization.
Having lived to such an age, Gakuganji possessed at least that much foresight.
However, the main branches of the Gojo Family, the Zen’in Family, and the Kamo Family—the “Three Great Families”—were all situated in Kyoto, Japan.
Kyoto was a thousand-year-old ancient capital, teeming with shrines, temples, ancient rules, and old clans.
Those old fogies who had lived for God knows how many years spent their entire lives inside those ancient estates, their brains stuffed with terms like “bloodline,” “heritage,” and “orthodoxy.”
They didn’t want a new student who automatically “attracted monsters.”
Imagine it: wherever Yasui went, Cursed Spirits followed.
If he accidentally released a trace of his aura in the bustling downtown of Kyoto, the scene would be beyond imagining.
The main gates of the Three Great Families surrounded by Cursed Spirits—if word got out, where would they put their dignity?
Furthermore, a person—a person of unknown origin, with a bizarre physique, and looking far too eye-catching—placed into the deep, ancient waters of Kyoto, looked completely out of place no matter how one sliced it.
And so, the current principal of the Tokyo branch, Juson Hatoyama, made a decision.
He placed a phone call to Suguru Geto, requesting a meeting with Yasui.