Three years had passed. Summer again—the annual enrollment season for Jujutsu High.
"The clan head is so mean. Why did he have to separate us?" Mai pouted, her movements sharp and agitated as she shoved clothes into her suitcase. "I want to go to Tokyo with you. I heard Mr. Kamo is teaching there."
Her eyes shimmered with longing and quiet envy.
The Zen'in sisters were packing in tandem, their rooms adjacent in the clan compound. Normally, a Zen'in attending Jujutsu High would choose Kyoto—closer to home, entrenched in clan politics, a safer harbor. But Zen'in Naobito was no fool. He knew where the true power now resided.
So Maki was bound for Tokyo. Mai, to Kyoto.
"It's fine. If you keep clinging to me, you'll never stand on your own," Maki said, her frown serious.
"What's wrong with clinging? Other people don't even have a sister to cling to." Mai launched herself into Maki's arms, burying her face in her shoulder. "Besides, I'm not that weak. I'm just not as strong as you."
She nuzzled closer, a spoiled cat.
Since Kamo had severed the flawed bond between them, Maki had only grown sharper—more driven, more confident. Her perfected Heavenly Restriction had earned her a Grade Two ranking, a rare feat for a first-year. Mai, too, had found her footing. Her cursed energy was now fully her own, her Construction Technique steadily refined. But with confidence came a new dependence: she had become fiercely, unabashedly attached to her sister.
Maki sighed, but didn't push her away. Beside her sat a massive, reinforced trunk, packed to bursting with weapons—each one lovingly forged by Mai. Daggers, polearms, throwing knives, a chain-sickle. One of everything.
"One of each would have been enough," Maki had said.
"I made them with love, so you have to take all of them," Mai had replied, her tone brooking no argument.
Only Maki's Heavenly Restriction-strengthened body could carry such a ridiculous load.
Before leaving, Maki paused at the gate. "Mr. Kamo... I'll be strong enough soon. Just wait."
Years ago, he had refused her request to stay by his side, citing her insufficient strength. She had taken it as a challenge. Every mission, every training session, was a step toward that unspoken goal: to prove herself worthy of standing beside him.
At Yaga Masamichi's residence, a panda in a school uniform struggled with a stubborn zipper on his suitcase.
"Father, are you sure it's okay for me to enroll at Tokyo High?" Panda asked, his round face creased with worry.
Yaga Masamichi smiled and patted his head. "Of course. I'm the principal now. I think I can manage a simple enrollment."
"Oh. I thought it was because Kamo Itsuki and Gojo Satoru were backing you." Panda blinked. "But it's fine either way."
Yaga's weathered face reddened. "Ahem. Itsuki's research into cursed corpses has far surpassed mine. The higher-ups are far too preoccupied with him to care about my little projects anymore." He cleared his throat, recovering his dignity. "If you truly wish to grow stronger, consult Itsuki. Perhaps he has methods to further enhance your potential."
Panda nodded slowly, considering his father's words.
On the winding mountain path leading to Kyoto Jujutsu High, a girl with pink braids bounced lightly up the stone steps. Sunlight dappled through the ancient cedars, painting shifting patterns on her cheerful face.
"School finally starts! I wonder what everyone will be like," Kanon said, her voice bright and melodic, directed at the golden goldfish swimming lazily through the air beside her.
"Kamo Itsuki," Kenjaku's mental voice echoed within her consciousness, a thread of dark amusement woven through it. "You would never guess. I've become a Shikigami—a mere familiar to a child—and yet I've never been closer to you."
For the first time in a millennium, Kenjaku felt something unfamiliar stirring in his borrowed form. It wasn't hatred, nor ambition. It was anticipation. Perhaps becoming a Shikigami wasn't the worst fate. It placed him right in the enemy's domain, invisible, underestimated.
'Let him teach his prodigies. Let him collect his fingers. I will be here, patient, growing, waiting. And one day...'
"Oops, am I late?" Kanon's voice cut through his thoughts. She stood before the imposing gate of Kyoto Jujutsu High, where a small cluster of new students had already gathered. Her face fell. "I hope I didn't make a bad impression."
"You are early," Kenjaku said flatly. "Calm yourself."
"Oh! That's good then." Her worry melted into a relieved smile.
The ancient schemer, reduced to a winged counselor, floated silently beside his young charge. The game board was vast, and this new piece had only just been placed. He had time.
At the gate of Tokyo Jujutsu High, a girl with choppy black hair and a scarred training staff slung over her shoulder stepped through. Behind her, a mountain of luggage clanked ominously. A panda in a uniform followed, eyeing the weapon trunk with professional curiosity.
And in the faculty office, Kamo Itsuki looked up from his notes. A faint, satisfied smile touched his lips.
The new generation was arriving. The pieces were moving into place. His grand design, patient and sprawling, was entering its next phase.
Kanon exhaled a long, quiet breath of relief. Her composure restored, she stepped forward with a warm, open smile.
"Hello everyone! I'm Kanon. It's my first day—please take good care of me!" Her voice was bright and sincere, her eyes sweeping the group with eager anticipation.
Silence.
The other early arrivals, strangers to one another, had each claimed their own quiet corner of the courtyard. No one spoke. No one moved.
Kanon's smile froze. A delicate flush crept up her cheeks, spreading like watercolor to the tips of her ears. Her fingers found the hem of her uniform and began to fidget.
'Why... why won't anyone say anything...?'
Just as the silence threatened to swallow her entirely, footsteps approached.
"I'm Nanako. Nice to meet you."
A girl with sunshine-yellow hair and a rabbit-shaped phone dangling from her wrist stepped forward, her smile gentle and warm. Beside her, a girl with soft brown hair clutching a teru teru bozu doll nodded in agreement.
"I'm Mimiko. You're really cute!" Her eyes were kind, devoid of judgment.
Kanon's face lit up like a saved drowning victim spotting land. She grasped both their hands with startling urgency, her grip tight with gratitude. "Saviors!"
Nanako and Mimiko exchanged a brief, amused glance. They didn't pull away.
Years had passed since that day at the hospital ruins—since Geto Suguru's curses had pulled them from the crushing darkness. Since then, the sisters had remained at his side, adrift in the Bansei Cult's quiet work.
They knew their limits. As twins, their cursed energy was split, each holding only half the capacity of a normal sorcerer. Greatness in jujutsu was likely beyond them. They had accepted this, studying under Ieiri Shoko, learning the quiet art of healing—a useful, modest path.
But Geto Suguru refused to let them settle.
"Cursed energy isn't everything," he had told them. "Hand-to-hand combat. Puppet Jutsu. Barrier Techniques. There are many ways to fight. Many ways to be useful."
He had insisted they enroll at Jujutsu High. Not to become weapons, but to become people. To make friends, to discover their own paths, to find reasons to fight that weren't simply gratitude or obligation.
"If, after three years, you still wish to return to the cult," he had said, his voice steady, "you will always be welcome. No repayment is required. You owe me nothing."
So they came. Not out of duty, but because he believed in them—and that belief had slowly, quietly, begun to take root.
The morning sun continued its climb over Kyoto Jujutsu High. Three girls stood together at the edge of the courtyard, already talking like old friends.
Nearby, a goldfish Shikigami drifted in lazy circles, its ancient inhabitant observing everything with patient, calculating eyes.
'Interesting,' Kenjaku mused. 'Geto Suguru's wards. Twins, like Kanon. Half-capacity, like her.'
His plan, once singular, was now branching into unforeseen possibilities.