The gymnasium at Jujutsu High was surprisingly well-equipped for a school that primarily trained
sorcerers. Gojo grabbed a basketball while Geto leaned against the wall, and Shinichi found
himself paired with Shoko at a ping-pong table.
As they played, Shinichi couldn't help but observe the dynamic between the two strongest
second-years. There was an easy camaraderie there, but also something else—a tension that hadn't
yet surfaced.
"So what's the point of expense reports anyway?" Gojo asked, bouncing the ball lazily. "Regular
people can't see sorcerers or cursed spirits."
"They're necessary," Geto replied. "Maintaining public peace of mind is crucial for reducing the
number of cursed spirits. When people feel safe, they generate less negative emotion—less fuel for
curses."
Shinichi and Shoko set down their paddles to watch. This conversation felt important.
"Not just that..." Geto continued.
"I know, I know. It's exhausting worrying about weak people all the time."
Shinichi noticed Geto's expression flicker—just for a moment. There was something there. A seed of
something that could grow into darkness if left unchecked.
"Satoru, remember—sorcery exists to protect non-sorcerers."
Geto spoke with genuine seriousness, but Shinichi wondered how long that conviction would last. He
had seen what happened in the original story. The weight of protecting an ungrateful world had
eventually crushed Geto Suguru.
I need to prevent that, Shinichi thought. But how do you save someone from their own despair?
"Are you lecturing me? I hate lectures."
Gojo revealed half of his blue eyes beneath his sunglasses, his tone provocative.
"Satoru. Step outside with me."
Geto's expression darkened. The space behind him tore open, revealing black gaps where powerful
cursed spirits loomed.
"Afraid of being alone? That's not it."
Gojo replied indifferently.
The atmosphere in the gymnasium had shifted from playful to dangerous in seconds. Shinichi felt
the pressure of two Special Grade-level sorcerers preparing to clash.
"Shinichi, come with me."
Shoko sensed trouble brewing, scooped up Shinichi, and fled the gymnasium.
"Shoko, slow down!"
Shinichi, tucked under her arm, was carried away from the potential battlefield. He could still
feel the cursed energy spiking behind them—then suddenly dissipating.
At the same time, Yaga Masamichi pushed open the door.
"What are you two doing?"
"Nothing." "Ah, nothing at all."
The two instantly switched gears, and the tense atmosphere evaporated as quickly as it had formed.
Shinichi let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Crisis averted—for now.
"Where's Shoko?"
"Maybe the bathroom?"
"Forget it. I have a mission for you two."
In the meeting room, Yaga explained the assignment in detail. Shinichi had managed to convince
Shoko to let him listen in—his puppy-dog eyes were remarkably effective.
"The Star Plasma Vessel is a young woman named Riko Amanai," Yaga said, spreading documents across
the table. "Every five hundred years, Master Tengen requires a compatible vessel to prevent his
Immortality technique from evolving him into something... else. Without assimilation, he would
eventually become a threat to humanity itself."
"So we're glorified bodyguards," Gojo said, clearly unimpressed.
"You're protecting the foundation of Japan's barrier system," Yaga corrected sharply. "Master
Tengen's barriers protect every jujutsu institution and countless civilians. This isn't optional."
Geto studied the documents more carefully. "It says there are multiple groups who might target
her. The Time Vessel Association—they worship Tengen and believe assimilation is 'impure.' And
something called Q?"
"A curse user organization. Less ideological, more mercenary. They'll attack anyone for the right
price."
Shinichi absorbed all of this, matching it against his knowledge of the original story. The real
threat wasn't Q or even the Time Vessel Association directly. It was the man they would hire. Toji
Fushiguro—the Sorcerer Killer.
"So we need to protect the Star Plasma Vessel until she returns to Jujutsu High?" Geto summarized.
"Correct. This mission is critical. I'm entrusting it to you two."
"Really... what a pointless task."
Gojo reluctantly accepted, but his dismissiveness worried Shinichi. Underestimating this mission
could get people killed.
"You shouldn't say that, Satoru. Master Tengen does this for the stability of the world."
Geto offered gentle counsel.
"I know, I know. It's just a contradictory mission. We're protecting someone so she can stop
existing as herself. That's messed up, isn't it?"
For a moment, no one had a response. Even Yaga seemed to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth.
"By the way..." Yaga addressed them both. "Have you returned the Kamo family's child yet?"
"Not yet. Let's split up—Shoko can take him back while we handle the mission."
"Fine. I'll return to my office then."
After Yaga left, Shinichi felt a surge of panic. If he went back to the Kamo estate now,
everything he'd worked for would be meaningless. He needed to stay close to the action.
In the car with Shoko, Shinichi's mind raced through possibilities.
"Shoko, where is Gojo going?"
Though Shinichi knew exactly what was happening, he had to ask to avoid suspicion.
"They're on a secret mission. I'll take you back to the Kamo estate. We can hang out another
time."
"I see..."
Shinichi knew returning to the Kamo estate was likely inevitable—but if he went back now, sneaking
out again would be nearly impossible. The clan would be watching him like hawks.
No. I can't go back now. Everything I've done will be for nothing. I need a plan...
To prevent Geto Suguru from falling to darkness, Riko Amanai must not die. The events of Hidden
Inventory were the first crack in Geto's worldview—the moment when protecting humanity started to
feel pointless.
Everyone... has to survive.
With that resolve, Shinichi activated his Purple Eyes. The flow of cursed energy within a
200-meter radius became crystal clear—every spirit, every trace of supernatural activity laid bare
before him.
Found it.
He detected a Grade 2 cursed spirit lurking nearby, drawn by the residual energy of the city.
Deliberately, he let his own cursed energy flare outward, creating a beacon.
Come to me.
It was a gamble. Around the time he awakened his technique, Shinichi had noticed stray cursed
spirits infiltrating the Kamo estate—a place that should have been spotless. They were quickly
exorcised by family sorcerers, but Shinichi had keenly noticed they were drawn to him
specifically.
After several experiments, he confirmed his theory. He didn't know the exact reason, but cursed
spirits appeared whenever he used his abilities at full strength. Most sorcerers would consider
this a curse. Shinichi intended to make it a tool.
Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru had arrived at their destination.
The two walked down the street in bizarre poses—some kind of choreographed routine they'd
developed. Even their impressive height and striking looks couldn't mask how ridiculous they
appeared. Civilians gave them a wide berth, probably assuming they were street performers or
mentally unstable.
"The Time Vessel Association and Q," Geto mused. "Between a religious cult and mercenary curse
users, which do you think will strike first?"
"The mercs," Gojo said without hesitation. "Religious types like to plan elaborate ceremonies.
Curse users just want to get paid and go home."
As they discussed their opposition, a building in the distance exploded. Glass and debris rained
down, and a small figure began falling from the high-rise.
"That must be her," Gojo said, all playfulness vanishing from his voice. "If she dies now, we'll
be blamed."
At the explosion site, a curse user sneered at Riko Amanai as she plummeted toward certain death.
"If you want to hate someone, hate Tengen."
"Please try to be less conspicuous. I just got scolded this morning."
A manta ray cursed spirit carrying Geto caught Riko safely, pulling her from her freefall with
practiced ease.
"A sorcerer from Jujutsu High? I suggest you hand over the girl, or I'll kill you."
"Sorry, didn't catch that. Speak up?"
Geto cupped his ear mockingly, completely unintimidated.
"You... brat!"
Back on the street, Gojo watched the rescue from ground level, his Six Eyes tracking every
movement.
"Good, good. Rescue successful."
As he turned, several throwing knives stopped in front of him—frozen in midair by his Infinity.
"You must be Gojo Satoru. I've heard you're strong. Mind showing me?"
A curse user emerged from the shadows. It was Bayer—the strongest fighter of Q, a hulking man
covered in curse marks.
"Sure. But let's set a rule first. I don't want to get scolded again."
"A rule?"
"Yeah. The rule is: if you cry and apologize to me, I'll spare your life."
"Arrogant brat!"
The battle was brief and one-sided. Bayer attacked with everything he had—cursed tools, curse
techniques, raw physical power—and none of it mattered. Gojo Satoru dismantled him systematically,
almost lazily, never once dropping his cocky smile.
On a distant tower, two men observed the chaos below—completely invisible to Gojo's perception.
"So that's Gojo Satoru? The Time Vessel Association doesn't have sorcerers, but they're generous
with money. What do you think, Zenin?"
The suited man, Kong, asked the tall dark-haired man beside him.
"It's not Zenin anymore. I married into another family. Now it's Fushiguro."
The man—Toji Fushiguro—watched the battle with predatory interest. Where others saw an invincible
monster, he saw gaps. Weaknesses. Opportunities.
"Alright. I accept."
By now, Shinichi had successfully lured the Grade 2 cursed spirit toward the car. Since this was
supposed to be a simple escort mission, the only people with him were Shoko and the driver—neither
of whom were combat-ready.
"Ms. Ieiri, look!"
The panicked driver pointed outside, his hands trembling on the wheel.
"What is it?"
Shoko looked out the window and her face went pale.
"A cursed spirit—Grade 2!"
The cursed spirit charged toward them as if sensing prey. It was a grotesque thing—all teeth and
claws, with too many joints in all the wrong places.
"Damn..."
Shoko was nervous. Though technically a sorcerer, she was really just a medic—capable of
exorcising Grade 3 spirits at best. A Grade 2 would tear through her.
With Gojo and Geto around, she wouldn't fear even Special Grade threats. But now they were alone,
with a child to protect and a monster bearing down on them.
"Leave it to me, Shoko."
Shinichi grabbed a blood bag and leaped from the slowing car before she could stop him.
"Shinichi!"
Shoko scrambled after him, but by the time she reached the door, it was already over.
Shinichi stood in the middle of the road, blood swirling around him in geometric patterns. The
cursed spirit lay in pieces, cleanly bisected by Crimson Torrent.
"How..." Shoko whispered.
Shinichi turned back to her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry for scaring you. But I couldn't let
it hurt anyone."
And now, he thought, you can't send me back. Not when there are clearly cursed spirits targeting
us.
It was manipulation, pure and simple. But Shinichi had learned long ago that good intentions meant
nothing without the power to act on them. If he had to deceive a few people to save lives, so be
it.
At a horse racing track across the city, Toji Fushiguro lounged in the stands with a takeout
container of takoyaki.
"You didn't go back to Jujutsu High? How lucky."
He spoke into his phone with mock enthusiasm, then pretended the signal was cutting out and hung
up. Kong could figure out the details himself.
The horses thundered past, and Toji checked his betting slip with a scowl. Wrong again. His luck
with gambling was legendarily terrible—some cosmic joke, probably, to balance out his combat
abilities.
"Well, this makes things easier—"
He paused mid-bite, every instinct screaming alert.
There. In the bushes near the track entrance. Someone was watching him.
Not a sorcerer—he would have sensed cursed energy. But someone was definitely there, studying him
with unusual intensity.
"Whoever's lurking over there—come out if you don't want to die."
Toji didn't attack immediately. Though few civilians were around, he didn't want to attract
unnecessary attention. Not yet.
"Oh... okay..."
A child emerged from the bushes. A boy in a white kimono, maybe five or six years old, with
striking purple eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the afternoon light.
"A kid?"
Toji studied Shinichi with a trace of confusion. His instincts told him something was off, but he
couldn't pinpoint what.
He's not a spy or a sorcerer. Wait—no, he is a sorcerer. But there's no killing intent. Just...
curiosity?
"Kid. Who sent you?"
"I..."
"Don't even think about lying. Otherwise..."
Toji picked up a disposable chopstick and pointed it at Shinichi's head. In his hands, even such a
mundane object became lethal.
"You're dead."
"My name is Shinichi... I'm just a passing sorcerer."
Passing sorcerer? Toji almost laughed. The kid had guts, he'd give him that.
"Calling yourself a sorcerer at that age? Confident. But since you didn't lie, I'll spare your
life."
Toji lowered the chopstick and resumed eating, but kept Shinichi in his peripheral vision.
"Still, you're impressive for your age. Tell me—which of the Three Great Families are you from?"
Toji asked casually. His intuition told him the boy's cursed energy was substantial—far more than
a normal child should possess.
"...Kamo Shinichi. My full name is Kamo Shinichi."
Under Toji's invisible pressure, Shinichi revealed his identity after a moment's hesitation.
"Kamo family?"
Toji fell silent. The Kamo clan. One of the Three Great Families. A child of that bloodline, alone
and far from home, with enough cursed energy to attract attention...
Three seconds later, he moved with blinding speed—grabbing Shinichi by the collar and vanishing
from the viewing area.
Only a pair of chopsticks and two unfinished takoyaki remained.
They reappeared in a secluded alley, far from any witnesses.
"If I threaten you, the Kamo family will pay a ransom, right?"
Toji looked at the boy dangling from his grip and smiled—a predator's smile.
"Uh, mister... are you serious?"