Time passed quickly.
That's just how life was for a Jujutsu Sorcerer. As long as you treated exorcising curses like clocking in for work, it wasn't so different from a regular job.
When there were no missions, the days slipped by fast—just like how vacations always seemed to vanish in a blink. Taking off your ID badge wasn't all that different from an office worker loosening their tie.
Another new school year had begun.
Not that it had much to do with Sōjun Minamoto.
But Shiko Mishima was definitely into it. Whenever a freshman ran into her, they had to bow and greet her with a respectful "-senpai."
She still held a strong sense of pride in being part of Jujutsu High.
From her, Sōjun Minamoto learned that this year, once again, there were only two new students.
The annual intake was always that low. It was hard not to worry—would there be a year when Jujutsu High simply ran out of students? People with jujutsu talent were just too rare.
Sōjun Minamoto stood barefoot in his living room, black hair loose, upper body bare.
On his chest was a patch of dark silver, mirror-like metal. At the center of his torso was a black circular mark, with three twisted sword-like points radiating from the top, bottom, and both sides—eight in total. Around it were scattered short, broken lines running along his muscles.
The locust head had been fully assimilated, now housed within him.
The arrangement of these sigils, the patterns they formed, and the fly-sized inscriptions weren't just decorative. Every element had purpose—Sōjun Minamoto had laid them out based on the principles of Barrier Techniques.
Right now, with only a few curses assimilated, the barrier could only provide minimal isolation and defense.
Still, it was better than nothing.
At least he didn't need an umbrella when it rained, and he didn't have to worry about dust sticking to him while walking.
He studied the sigils closely, adjusting the layout of a few lines. A flash of black light pulsed across his chest, giving the design a heavier, denser feel.
Satisfied, he nodded. The barrier was growing stronger—it would be a huge asset in time.
Sōjun Minamoto pulled on a jacket to cover the markings, slipped into a pair of slippers, and casually stepped out of the attic.
He was heading to see Masamichi Yaga.
...
"I'm applying for Grade 1 Sorcerer promotion," Sōjun Minamoto said bluntly, sipping his tea and gently setting the cup down.
Masamichi Yaga didn't even blink. He poured himself a cup, grabbed a cloth, and wiped the water from the table.
After taking a sip himself, he set his cup down with practiced grace.
"You should've gone for it a long time ago. I'm more surprised you waited this long to come see me."
It was all about well-rounded growth and building a solid foundation. Sōjun Minamoto had higher standards—and stricter ones—than anyone else when it came to evaluating himself.
Masamichi Yaga didn't wait for an answer. Clearly, he wasn't expecting one.
He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out two envelopes.
"Promotion to Grade 1 requires recommendations from at least two Grade 1 sorcerers or higher, and confirmation of qualifications through several missions."
"I've already prepared the letters."
He waved the envelopes and handed them over.
"Your mission record basically meets the standard too."
Basically? So something was still missing?
Sōjun Minamoto raised an eyebrow and opened the envelopes. One was signed by Masamichi Yaga. The other... was from Yoshinobu Gakuganji?
Oh? The guitar geezer.
Sōjun Minamoto was actually quite interested in the guy's technique.
Both Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu Highs operated under the same system. Staff might belong to different factions, but overall, it was one network. So even though Sōjun Minamoto was from Tokyo, getting a Kyoto sorcerer to recommend him wasn't strange.
He tucked away the envelopes and silently sipped his tea. Masamichi Yaga did the same. The two sat across from each other in silence, neither making eye contact.
After a while...
Masamichi Yaga finally spoke. "There's an urgent mission—"
I win.
Sōjun Minamoto's lips curled up slightly.
Immediately, he felt a threatening gaze.
Masamichi Yaga paused, a vein twitching in his forehead. He shook his head and continued.
"One of the upperclassmen went on a mission to Shizuoka and hasn't made contact in two days..."
"So you want me to back her up?" Sōjun Minamoto asked curiously. Yaga almost never interfered with him, let alone assign him tasks.
"No. I already sent a second-year I'm mentoring to support her..." He trailed off, like the next part was hard to say.
"So it's dangerous? Not enough manpower?" Sōjun Minamoto sighed. These roundabout conversations were exhausting.
"The mission isn't hard. They'll just forget to bring the support Window or set a Curtain, so..."
"So I'm just going as support, and when I get back, I get promoted to Grade 1?" Sōjun Minamoto narrowed his eyes.
That easy? If Yaga hadn't personally told him, he would've suspected another scheme from the higher-ups.
"You still need to make it look legit. So, are you taking it or not?" Masamichi Yaga was clearly running out of patience.
See? You're already getting worked up.
Sōjun Minamoto drained his tea, straightened up, and smirked.
Support? With all due respect, that was his specialty.
"I'll take the mission."
"You need to arrive before them... but the second-years left about half an hour ago," Yaga said with a sip of tea. "So, you're running a little short on time."
Sōjun Minamoto turned and left without another word, as if he'd made up his mind.
Just before he stepped out the door, Yaga called out behind him.
"Don't forget your uniform!"
...
Hamamatsu, Shizuoka Prefecture. The sky was thick with clouds.
Inside a Western-style mansion rumored to be haunted...
"When's this damn hallway gonna end?" A dark-haired girl in a shrine maiden outfit stood against the wall, impatiently scanning her surroundings.
The corridor stretched straight in both directions, disappearing into pitch-black darkness. All the doors were shut, and silence pressed in from every side.
The moment she spoke, her voice echoed through the corridor, layers upon layers of warped sound bouncing back. It sounded almost like something in the darkness was whispering back...
She shivered, tucking in her shoulders. The more afraid she felt, the harder it was to stop glancing toward the shadows.
Beside her stood a mature woman with silver-tinted hair, wearing a different style of support uniform: a dark purple skirt with a black blouse, belted at the waist and tied neatly with a tie, emphasizing her curvy figure. On her feet were a pair of high-top women's shoes.
The silver-haired woman glanced at her watch.
"We've been walking for about 30 minutes," she estimated silently. "That's almost 15 kilometers... and we haven't seen a single marker."
...
Sōjun Minamoto found Shiko Mishima, told her what was going on, and asked for the car keys.
The promotion task had to be completed alone. He left after saying goodbye—her face visibly twisted with concern.
He made his way to the school gate and spotted the black car parked by the curb.
There's only ever a first time… and then it's just habit. Crossdressing, traffic violations—same deal.
Turns out, his work ID could be used as a driver's license. He found that out later.
Sōjun Minamoto got in, started the engine, and turned on the music.
~I got no impression
This town is made by imitation
Wanting your sensation~
(Song: m.o.v.e - Rage Your Dream)
He slammed the gas pedal down.
Feeling the engine kick beneath him, the roar of the car mixing with the music blaring in his ears—
He finally understood why Shiko Mishima loved speeding so much.
Was it a time-sensitive mission?
He could feel the adrenaline start to rise.
…
The silver-haired woman raised the corners of her mouth and analyzed:
"From this, it seems the Cursed Spirit's Barrier inside the mansion isn't a circular structure. It's most likely a modular setup that adjusts with our movements."
"Otherwise, it'd have to be an endlessly massive Barrier, right?" The shrine maiden quickly picked up the thread, though it was clear that possibility was slim—far beyond the mission's original scope.
"Maybe, but the chances of that are indeed very low," the silver-haired woman agreed.
Under the shrine maiden's gaze, she extended a finger and gently touched the wall—where a strange indentation appeared.
The shrine maiden followed, and a soft, elastic sensation greeted her fingertip—like touching human skin.
They exchanged a glance. The shrine maiden shuddered...
...
Sōjun Minamoto's body trembled slightly, but his grip on the steering wheel remained frighteningly steady.
It had started to drizzle.
He rolled down the window. Cool raindrops blew in, striking his face, helping him calm down.
Cars zipped past in the blink of an eye.
Sōjun Minamoto kept pushing the speed, riding the rhythm of the music.
His technique's ability was perfect for speeding down the highway. He didn't even have to control his body—adrenaline was already kicking in.
...
"The walls won't break. Let's split up!"
After a moment of careful sensing, the silver-haired woman made her decision.
"It really seems like a modular structure. We'll split up and move quickly and erratically. If the Cursed Spirit's Barrier can't keep up with our speed... we should be able to break out. As long as one of us escapes, we can attack the Barrier from the outside or call for reinforcements."
She looked at the shrine maiden.
"Good idea. Let's give it a shot!" the shrine maiden replied.
They turned away from each other, knees slightly bent. The silver-haired woman raised a finger and called out:
"Ready—"
"One, two, three—go!"
...
With a graceful drift, the black sedan slowed sharply and pulled to a stop on the roadside.
Sōjun Minamoto had arrived.
He pushed open the door, stepped out from the driver's seat, and looked at the still-intact Western-style mansion ahead.
Just in time!
Sōjun Minamoto raised his right hand, forming a sword gesture.
"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
Buzz—
A semicircular Barrier appeared, covering the entire mansion before fading into the void.
Boom—
Almost at the same moment, a loud crash came from within the mansion, followed by a high-pitched female scream—
"Ahhhhhhh!"
The mansion's outer wall exploded open, and the shrine maiden tumbled out through a gaping hole.
The building began to collapse from top to bottom, steel beams and rubble raining down. The shrine maiden twisted midair, barely managing a rough landing before crashing into the debris.
A white-haired man in sunglasses arrived late, having watched the whole thing from the side. Only when the shrine maiden was buried under rubble did he finally step forward.
"We're here to rescue you~"
He approached her, hands in his pockets, leaned in close, and stared at her face.
"Hey—Utahime, are you crying?"
"I'm not crying!" Veins bulged at the corner of her eye as she pushed off the debris. "And show some respect to your seniors!"
"If you cry, will you comfort us?" The silver-haired woman landed smoothly beside them.
"Mei-san wouldn't cry, right? You're strong."
"Hehehe, is that so?" Mei Mei chuckled, covering her mouth.
"Gojo!! I don't need you to save me!" Utahime shouted, raising a finger as she stood.
Before she could finish,
A grotesque Cursed Spirit crawled out of the rubble behind her—its bloated body shaped like a giant finger, a skull face on its tip, and a human face on its belly. The mission's target Cursed Spirit.
Its massive frame blocked out the light above, casting Utahime into shadow.
She heard the low muttering behind her, stiffly turned her head—only to see the Cursed Spirit open its huge mouth, ready to devour her.
Ssshhk—
Suddenly, a massive worm-like Cursed Spirit burst out from beneath it, biting into its body mid-lunge.
"Don't eat it. We still need to capture it later," said a man with fox-like eyes and strange bangs as he stepped out.
The Worm Cursed Spirit obediently stopped mid-bite, keeping the target spirit caught in its mouth. It was clearly under his control.
The bangs man looked at Satoru Gojo.
"Gojo, picking on the weak isn't cool."
"What kind of idiot doesn't pick on the weak?" Gojo shrugged. "You're the one starting trouble, Suguru."
"Utahime-senpai~, are you okay?" Another girl with short hair and a teardrop-shaped mole under one eye approached and waved.
"We haven't heard from you in two days—I was so worried."
Utahime finally snapped out of her shock—maybe also her rage—tears brimming as she ran forward and hugged the girl tight.
"Shoko! Please, don't ever turn into someone like them!"
"Ahaha, no way I'd become scum like that," Shoko Ieiri laughed.
"Two days? So the Cursed Spirit's Barrier has a time distortion?" Gojo turned to Mei Mei. "No wonder. And you were there too, Mei-san."
"Seems like it. By the way, where's your Curtain?" Mei Mei slipped into monitor mode, scanning the area before turning back to the group.
Everyone went quiet.
...
Sōjun Minamoto stood on the roadside, watching the Worm Cursed Spirit swallow the target.
He stepped underneath, looked up, and casually punched the Worm in the gut.
Ugh—
The Worm Cursed Spirit gagged and spat the target back out.
The moment it landed, the target Cursed Spirit tried to flee—but Sōjun Minamoto brought it down with one swift kick, then stomped on the human face on its belly.
It thrashed frantically, unable to break free.
The band holding back his hair snapped. Black strands spilled down, with a single scarlet thread piercing straight into the back of the Cursed Spirit's head.
A vivid crimson light burst out, accompanied by sounds of chewing and swallowing.
The Cursed Spirit's expression gradually relaxed, a strange smile tugging at its lips. Its body transformed into a humanoid form, though its skull-like head remained.
Sōjun Minamoto stepped back, stretched, and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back to reveal sharp, aggressive eyes.
"Come on—show me your Barrier!"
Buzz—
Suddenly, he stood in a dim, narrow corridor. He knew he was inside the Cursed Spirit's Domain.
He walked a few steps, touched the walls, sensing his surroundings.
Hmm?
No time or space distortion?
Just perception interference?
Tch. Better than nothing.
Snap!
He snapped his fingers—and the Domain unraveled.
He kept his hands tucked into his sleeves. His collar had slipped off one shoulder, leaving him half-bare.
The uniform's fabric was more resistant to Cursed Energy than normal clothing. It was a shame—it barely got worn properly before getting trashed.
Sōjun Minamoto placed a hand on the Cursed Spirit. Black energy flowed upward, forming an abstract skull pattern that fused into his body, completing a missing mark along his skin.
...
"Hey, naked guy over there..." Utahime, still clinging to Shoko Ieiri, turned to glare at the man who'd suddenly appeared. "Who are you?"
It was Sōjun Minamoto, casually passing by during their argument.
He turned and pointed to himself.
Me?
"Yeah, you. The naked guy. Who the hell are you?" Gojo followed up.
Sōjun Minamoto looked at the group. He thought back to what Masamichi Yaga had hesitated to say earlier, and couldn't help but grin.
So these are the weird students Yaga was talking about.
Kukuku~