We were walking up the long path to Jujutsu High—or “Jujutsu Tech” or whatever they want to call it this week. Doesn’t matter. I was one pink-haired existential crisis away from a mental breakdown.
I adjusted my collar, nerves buzzing, when suddenly—
“I WILL KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE PINK-HAIRED BASTARD!”
A mouth—an actual cursed mouth—sprouted from my cheek.
I slapped it.
“You got pink hair too, dumbass.”
Gojo chuckled, barely fazed. “So he does that often?”
“Guess so,” I mumbled, rubbing my face like this was just another Wednesday.
Then Gojo got that rare, serious tone in his voice—the kind that cuts through the jokes.
“You both need to understand who Sukuna really is.”
We paused on the steps. Megumi leaned in like a student at a history lecture.
“Sukuna’s not just a powerful curse. He’s a curse user from over a thousand years ago. Back then, he had four arms, two faces, and enough cursed energy to make today’s curses piss themselves. He didn’t just fight sorcerers—he slaughtered them. The only way to stop him... was to seal his soul into twenty indestructible fingers.”
He turned to me.
“And you, Yuji, have eaten one. So you’re technically one-twentieth possessed.”
I gulped. Cool, cool, love that for me.
Megumi, of course, had the guts to ask the real question. “Who’s stronger—twenty-finger Sukuna or you, Gojo?”
Gojo’s lips curved into a grin. That damn confident grin.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“If Sukuna regains all his power...” he said, slowly flaring cursed energy, “…I might get in a little trouble.”
“But would you lose?” Megumi pressed.
Gojo chuckled. His aura skyrocketed. Wind rustled the trees.
“Nah. I’d win.”
I wasn’t so sure. In that moment, flashes of a Gojo split in two—images I didn’t recognize, but somehow remembered—flashed through my head like a premonition.
“Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the honored one…”
I shivered. Bad vibe. I shook it off as we stepped into the office.
---
The Interview From Hell
The principal’s office looked like a meditation dojo married a tax office. It smelled like incense, seriousness, and old people who drink tea instead of water.
Sitting at the center was Yaga, the principal, cross-legged on a mat and surrounded by paperwork.
“Why do you want to join Jujutsu High?” he asked.
Cold.
Before I could answer, a green teddy bear—yes, a bear made of felt and spite—lunged at my face.
I ducked, spun, and dropped into a stance, blocking a paw with my forearm. I might not have cursed energy, but my hands were certified weapons. The bear swiped again—I parried. Kicked it square in the gut. It bounced back, snarling.
Through gritted teeth, I replied, “To rid the world of Sukuna.”
“Not good enough.”
“Fine!” I panted, flipping the bear over my shoulder. “And because... I want to give people a proper death. No one should die alone or in pain. I want to do what’s right—even if I have to die doing it.”
There was a pause. The bear stood still. The principal stared at me.
Gojo, off to the side, gave a silent nod. The kind of nod that says, Yeah, kid’s nuts, but I vouch for him.
Yaga grunted, signed a paper, and handed it over.
My student ID.
I stared at it... then immediately squinted.
“Grade 4???”
Gojo strolled over and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Everyone starts at Grade 4.”
“BULLSHIT. You and Yuta were Special Grades from the jump! And Megumi’s Grade 2!”
Megumi, traitor that he is, shrugged. “He ain’t lying.”
I screamed internally.
---
Welcome to Dorm Life
After the bureaucratic betrayal, we walked across the courtyard toward the dorms.
“Guess this is home now,” I muttered.
The campus was quiet, distant mountains silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. Crows circled like something out of a folklore tale. Dorms looked more like traditional inns—wooden sliding doors, tatami mats, peaceful halls hiding violent futures.
I sighed.
It was official. I was now a pink-haired, Sukuna-possessed, grade 4 sorcerer at Jujutsu High.
At least the room had a soft bed.
