The air in the classroom still carried the weight of the earlier incident, a lingering tension that clung to the walls like an unspoken truth. But Yuuji carried on as if nothing had happened.
Standing at the front of the class, hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform, his gaze swept over the students before him.
They were young—but not ordinary.
Only those with potential could be here.
This academy was nothing like a normal school. Its students were few, its standards brutal. Not everyone who could see curses was suited for battle. Not every sorcerer possessed a Cursed Technique. And even among those who did, only a rare handful held true, undeniable talent.
And among those few…
Yuuji's eyes flickered toward Reika.
She sat in silence, unmoving. Her eyes—deep, shadowed voids—locked onto him, unreadable. Unshaken. Unbothered.
He exhaled slowly before speaking.
"Before we begin today's training, there's something fundamental we need to cover."
His arms crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but commanding.
"Cursed Energy," he began, "is the foundation of everything we do. Everyone has it—because it comes from negative emotions—but only a handful can control it."
A few students nodded, others furrowed their brows in thought.
"But beyond raw energy, there is something that only certain individuals possess… something called a Cursed Technique."
He paused, letting his words settle, watching for the realization to spark.
"Not every sorcerer has one."
A boy with short hair raised his hand. "It's like a unique ability that's different for each person, right?"
"Exactly." Yuuji's lips curved in the faintest smirk. "Those who have it are born with it, and no two are the same. Some can manipulate elements, some can bend space and time… and some, like Gojo-sensei once did, wield powers beyond what any other sorcerer could ever hope to match."
The room fell eerily still.
Gojo Satoru.
Even now, the name carried weight. Years had passed, but his absence was still a gaping void in the world.
Yuuji cleared his throat, pushing forward.
"Because not everyone is born with a technique, most sorcerers rely purely on their control over Cursed Energy. But those who do have one… well, let's just say they are the ones this world fears the most."
Reika's eyes narrowed slightly—but still, she remained silent.
The tension in the air was palpable.
Yuji let a small smirk creep onto his face before lifting his hand slightly.
A faint crimson aura shimmered around his fingers, flickering like embers caught in an invisible breeze. The temperature in the room didn't change, but the air itself felt… heavier, as if unseen hands were gripping each student by the shoulders, holding them in place.
"Seeing is understanding," Yuji said, his voice as casual as if he were explaining how to sharpen a pencil.
A piece of chalk from the teacher's desk trembled, lifted into the air, and, without warning—
CRACK!
It shot toward the blackboard with the force of a bullet, embedding itself in the surface with a small explosion of dust and a delicate web of cracks spreading outward.
Several students flinched.
Yuji chuckled. "That was just basic cursed energy control." Then, he clenched his fist.
The shift was instant. The space around his knuckles wavered—like heat rising from scorching pavement—before tightening into something denser, something real.
A whisper of movement—
BOOM!
A shockwave erupted from his fist, sending ripples through the air. Papers were torn from their desks, a few chairs scraped backward, and the walls themselves seemed to tremble from the force of a punch that had hit nothing.
Silence.
Yuji relaxed his stance, the residual energy dissipating like smoke. "That," he said, "was a Cursed Technique."
Some students gaped at him. Others exchanged uneasy glances. But one remained eerily still.
Reika.
She hadn't flinched. Hadn't gasped. Hadn't even blinked.
Instead, her eyes—deep, crimson, unreadable—lingered on the faint distortion still lingering in the air, fingers absentmindedly brushing against the old bracelet around her wrist.
A power meant only for a chosen few…
Her hand curled slightly.
She knew the truth.
Not all Cursed Techniques were meant to protect.
───⭑⭒⚊奈落の顎⚊⭒⭑───
The rain fell in a slow, rhythmic drizzle, dampening the cracked pavement outside the abandoned building. A flickering streetlamp cast long, fractured shadows against the broken windows.
Yuji stood before a rusted metal door, arms crossed, gaze sweeping over the four students assembled before him.
Reika—silent, impassive—stared at the building, as if reading something in the air that no one else could see.
Himari scoffed, crossing her arms. "So this is our first assignment? Please. Looks like a joke. Why do we even need a babysitter for this?" Her eyes flicked to Yuji, smug and unimpressed.
Tetsuya swallowed, shifting his weight nervously. "S-Sensei… what level is the curse inside?"
Ryou, calm as ever, said nothing. His sharp gaze flickered across their surroundings, absorbing every detail like a predator assessing a battlefield.
Yuji exhaled, voice even. "This place used to be a dormitory. A few weeks ago, something happened. People who went in… didn't come out. And those who did come out lost their memories."
Tetsuya took a step back. Himari barely reacted.
Yuji continued, "You four were chosen for a reason. I want to see how you function as a team. Each of you thinks differently, and in the field, that matters. Not every student becomes a jujutsu sorcerer. This mission will show me whether you have what it takes."
Reika's expression didn't change. But for the first time since arriving, something shifted in her eyes.
Interest.
Yuji stepped forward, pressing his palm against the cold, rusted metal of the door. "Listen carefully. Don't get careless. This is not just a training exercise—it's a real mission. You'll face things you can't predict. Be smart."
A pause.
Then, he glanced back at them. "Let's go." The door groaned open, and the moment they stepped inside—Everything changed.
The air was suffocatingly still. The outside world—distant street noise, the whisper of rain, the flickering of the streetlamp—vanished the moment they crossed the threshold.
Himari, as expected, took the lead, flashlight bouncing off the rotting walls. "Pfft. This place? What's there to be scared of?" she scoffed, walking forward without a hint of hesitation.
Behind her, Tetsuya nearly glued himself to Ryou's side, voice barely a whisper. "S-Sensei really let us go in alone? What if there's a high-level curse in here?"
Ryou didn't even glance at him. "If you're scared, leave." His voice was flat, unimpressed.
Tetsuya stiffened but didn't argue. At the very back, Reika walked in silence.
She barely moved her flashlight, as if she didn't need it. Her crimson gaze swept across the room, taking in every detail without a single wasted motion.
She said nothing. Did nothing. Simply… observed. Outside, Yuji remained by the door, arms still crossed. He wasn't going in.
This was their test. And already, something felt wrong. Not just the eerie silence. Not just the oppressive atmosphere. No—something more.
The walls felt closer. The air thicker. And their footsteps—They echoed just a little too long. As if someone else was walking with them.