Time did not move loudly.
It did not roar.
It did not tremble.
It did not announce that fate had already shifted.
It simply continued.
And we trained inside it.
Two Years Later — Sendai
Winter settled over Sendai like a quiet oath.
By then, I was no longer eight in the ways that mattered.
My body had lengthened.
My shoulders had broadened.
My breathing had become measured, controlled — no longer childish gasps, but silent, disciplined draws of air.
I moved differently.
Breathed differently.
Stood differently.
Toji Fushiguro had made sure of that.
Training with him was not structured.
There were no lesson plans.
No encouragement.
No praise.
It was survival.
He would disappear for hours — sometimes days — without warning. No cursed energy trail. No footprints. Nothing.
My task?
Find him.
Without Shōgan.
If I relied too heavily on my predictive sight, he punished me.
Not cruelly.
Precisely.
A thrown rock at the back of the skull.
A wire trap at the ankle.
A wooden blade pressed against my throat before I realized he was behind me.
"You don't always get your eyes," he would say flatly.
"You get your body. Your instinct. Or you die."
So he starved my dependence on foresight.
Forced me into reaction.
Forced me into silence.
By month six, I could cross a forest floor without disturbing a single leaf.
By month eight, I could dodge thrown steel without activating Shōgan.
By month ten—
I could feel killing intent the way animals feel storms.
A pressure shift in the air.
A tightening of space.
A disturbance before motion.
And Toji stopped smiling when I improved.
That was when I understood.
I was becoming dangerous.
The Night He Left
We stood beneath a dead oak tree — its branches twisted like skeletal fingers against the winter sky.
Toji wiped blood from his knuckles.
Not mine.
His.
He'd forced me to break through his guard.
"I'm going to see him," he said.
I didn't ask who.
There was only one answer.
Megumi Fushiguro.
"The Ten Shadows needs structure," Toji continued. "He'll get swallowed without it."
I stepped closer.
"You have one year."
He glanced at me.
"You talk like it's already decided."
"It is."
"You'll train him."
Silence.
"You'll help him subjugate Round Deer. That will keep him alive long-term. My interference won't affect the ritual."
Toji's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're planning far ahead."
"He wants to be loved. To be believed in." I met his gaze evenly. "You're his father. Act like it."
For the first time—
Toji looked uncomfortable.
Then he nodded.
"I'll place him properly."
That meant one thing.
Satoru Gojo.
"He'll come back in a year," I said.
Toji vanished without responding.
While He Was Gone
I hunted.
Not recklessly.
Systematically.
Sendai was smaller than Tokyo — but curses nested everywhere.
Hospitals soaked in despair.
Abandoned apartment blocks echoing with resentment.
Underpasses humming with loneliness.
I removed them.
One by one.
At first, it was practice.
By the tenth, it was cleansing.
By the twentieth—
The air in the town changed.
Lighter.
Breathable.
Civilians didn't notice.
But children stopped waking from nightmares.
Animals stopped growling at empty space.
I absorbed cursed energy carefully.
Filtered.
Refined.
Catalogued inside Inventory.
I wasn't just stockpiling anymore.
I was organizing.
Elemental traits.
Behavioral patterns.
Structural imprints.
Then—
The sky cracked.
The Kirin
A distortion above the treeline outside town.
Dense.
Violent.
Crackling.
Storm clouds spiraled unnaturally.
Lightning struck in repeating intervals — same radius, same center.
I stood at the forest's edge.
And I raised my hand.
"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness."
"Purify that which is impure."
The barrier sealed.
The world went black.
Inside it—
Thunder roared.
At the center stood a curse.
Pseudo-special grade.
Its body resembled a stag formed from muscle and storm cloud.
Bat-like wings unfurled from its shoulders.
Antlers arced with violent blue lightning.
Black markings crawled across its body like living veins.
Its eyes burned white.
It screamed—
And the sound split trees in half.
A Kirin.
Not divine.
But close.
It saw me.
And smiled.
Fourteen Minutes of Storm
The first lightning strike vaporized half the forest.
I didn't dodge.
I stored it.
Inventory opened like a silent abyss.
The energy vanished into containment.
The Kirin blinked.
Confused.
It struck again.
I stored it again.
It shrieked and dove — wings tearing air apart — nature-infused cursed energy surging from the land itself.
I didn't match its output.
I absorbed.
Its arrogance was its flaw.
Storm curses overwhelm.
They dominate.
They don't calculate.
Lightning tore through my shoulder — I reinforced.
Stored.
Lightning scorched my ribs — I reinforced.
Stored.
When it attempted to draw energy from surrounding nature—
I intercepted the flow.
Not stealing.
Redirecting.
The markings on its body flickered.
I used gravitational repulsion twice to survive close-range detonations.
Trees rose into the sky when I compressed stored lightning into a dense singular pulse.
The Kirin charged.
I expanded containment internally.
Maximum reverse flow.
Storm fed storm.
And when it was weak—
I stepped forward.
Compressed everything I had absorbed.
And drove it through its core.
Silence fell with the rain.
The curse disintegrated.
I knelt.
And extracted what mattered.
Two imprints remained:
Lightning alignment.
Nature-based cursed energy absorption.
I integrated both.
Carefully.
No corruption.
No loss of control.
My cursed energy changed.
Denser.
Quieter.
Storm sealed beneath still water.
The Fingers
The first was beneath a drainage system near an abandoned shrine.
Wrapped in rotting talismans.
The second was inside a low-grade curse nest in an apartment complex.
The third—
Sealed beneath a rural storage warehouse.
Each radiated ancient malice.
Even fragmented—
Ryomen Sukuna was monstrous.
I did not touch them directly.
Inventory opened.
Layered containment activated.
Triple seal.
No exposure.
Three fingers.
Silent.
Waiting.
Tokyo — One Year Later
Toji returned.
Thinner.
Sharper.
Calmer.
"He's under Gojo," he said.
As expected.
"He knows you're alive?" I asked.
"No."
"And he won't."
He'd told Megumi privately:
"You don't tell Gojo I'm alive."
If the higher-ups knew—
They would weaponize Megumi.
Or eliminate him.
"And Megumi?" I asked.
Toji looked away slightly.
"He listens."
That was enough.
The Imprint
Toji studied my Inventory technique carefully.
"You store cursed energy like objects," he observed.
"Yes."
"You store objects like cursed tools."
"Yes."
He smirked faintly.
"Then imprint it."
So I modified the technique.
Not just containment.
Recognition.
I inscribed a sigil onto a small pouch he carried.
Inventory linked.
If he allowed it—
I could store him instantly.
Teleport beside him if needed.
Not control.
Not restrict.
A mutual trigger.
Toji flexed his hand.
"…Huh."
"A weapon?" he asked.
"A partner," I replied.
He grinned.
"…Fair."
Growth
By the end of the second year:
My body had caught up.
Lean muscle.
Minimal wasted motion.
Lightning flickered subtly when I accelerated.
Nature-aligned cursed energy enhanced recovery.
Inventory space expanded.
Structured.
Precise.
Sendai had no curses left strong enough to threaten civilians.
People called it coincidence.
Luck.
I called it maintenance.
Elsewhere
Suguru Geto had left Jujutsu High.
The village incident still happened.
But I intervened before the massacre completed.
I stopped him from killing the remaining villagers.
I also stopped myself from killing them.
I understood their fear.
I hated it.
But I did not act on it.
After his confrontation with Gojo—
Gojo adopted Megumi.
Megumi trained harder than canon.
He believed there was a future.
That belief changes everything.
Rooftop — Age Ten
I stood overlooking Sendai.
Lightning flickered faintly beneath my skin.
Wind carried rain.
Toji stood beside me.
"You're quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"The decision not to kill Geto."
He glanced sideways.
"You're still a kid."
"I'm ten," I replied evenly. "You trained me like I wasn't."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"…Yeah."
Far away—
Gojo sharpened the strongest generation.
Geto built a organization.
The higher-ups schemed.
Three Sukuna fingers slept in silence.
A Heavenly Restricted monster stood at my side.
Storm rested beneath my skin.
I wasn't chasing power.
I was securing a future.
And this—
This was only the beginning.