Gojo Jiki sat bored in the classroom. An actual classroom where they were being taught Mathematics by Nanami Kento. The mundane normalcy of it all felt strange after everything they'd been through, after the attacks they had weathered days ago.
The blonde-haired, burly man turned at just the right moment and caught Jiki staring at him and despite Jiki's carefully maintained neutral expression, and despite years of training his features into an unreadable mask that would make even the most seasoned poker player envious, Nanami somehow guessed his thoughts.
"Sorcery is no excuse to put your regular studies on hold indefinitely," the older man started, his voice carrying that familiar deep and gravelly quality that had always commanded attention.
Jiki remembered him from years back, when the older man was still a student himself, though calling Nanami anything close to a typical student would have been laughable even then. His voice had been in that halfway process between youth and the authoritative tone he wielded now.
"More so, to be a strong sorcerer, you need a firmer grasp on the sciences," Nanami continued, adjusting his glasses to hide his eyes. "There is a reason why, even though Sorcery has gotten weaker overall in this era compared to the golden ages, there are still powerful sorcerers walking among us. That's because of the broader knowledge that this modern era has blessed us with, the accumulated wisdom of centuries of human advancement."
He shifted his gaze from the rest of the class after taking in their varying expressions of confusion, interest, and barely concealed boredom, before settling back on Jiki with that knowing look that suggested this entire lecture might have been orchestrated for his benefit.
"Take Gojo Satoru for example," Nanami said, and several students straightened at the mention of the strongest sorcerer alive. "While innate techniques come with what you might call an internal manual, an instinctive know how in their usage that's passed down through blood and breeding.
A truly intelligent user like Satoru amplifies the power exponentially with his broader knowledge of Physics. By understanding the fundamental forces that govern our reality: the repulsive and attractive forces, the nature of space and infinity, the mathematical concepts that underpin the very fabric of existence."
He paused, letting that sink in as he observed the dawning comprehension on some faces, like Emi, and the continued blank stares on others like Maki.
"Sheer talent, raw power, and natural skill are not the strongest sorcerer's only advantages. Far from it. His knowledge adds layers to that foundation, creating something far more formidable than the sum of its parts. It's the difference between a child waving a sword and a master swordsman who understands leverage, momentum, and the precise application of force."
He gestured to himself this time. "Another example is me. My technique, Ratio, allows me to visualize lines along a target's body, geometric divisions that create weak points at the precise 7:3 ratio. Without my extensive knowledge of mathematics, my understanding of spatial relationships and geometric principles, my comprehension of the technique would be shallow at best, vague at worst.
However, with the aid of Mathematics, with calculus to understand rates of change, with geometry to perceive angles and distances, with physics to comprehend force distribution, I can apply my cursed technique with surgical precision and bolster its effectiveness, making it exponentially stronger than raw instinct alone could ever achieve."
There was a cadre of "ohhs" and "ahhs" from the academically inclined like Emi and Toge, who Jiki was surprised stayed behind for this, considering his overarching goal. The reactions were enough to satisfy the blonde-haired sorcerer at least until his gaze inevitably returned to Jiki, who remained unmoved by the explanation.
Jiki sat perfectly still, his posture relaxed yet alert in that way that spoke of constant readiness for violence. He was not oblivious to what Nanami had pointed out. The older man was absolutely correct about the relationship between knowledge and power. A perfect example had been when he'd drained the electrical charges that Kashimo had imbued in him during their brief but intense encounter, using his understanding of physics to channel the lightning through the stolen staff and into the ground.
No, his issue wasn't with the lesson itself; it was with the timing. With the now.
A simple glance outside the classroom window told a story written in smoke and rubble. For the second time in recent years, Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High had been attacked. Its buildings stood charred and blackened by lightning strikes that had torn through reinforced walls like paper. Its carefully maintained grounds were now a landscape of craters and destruction, testament to the brutal combat between sorcerers and what they had taken to calling Transfigured Humans.
The school had bled, and outside their strangely sterile classroom was the scarred evidence that highlighted every wound. Workers moved like ants across the devastated campus, attempting to repair what they could. It was enough to clue Jiki into the why. This was supposed to be a distraction, a reprieve, and a time out for the students after the past few days. However, he was not a regular student.
"With that said, I'm not oblivious," Nanami announced, turning away from his audience and returning to the blackboard, his hand moved with practiced efficiency as he rapidly wrote out a complex equation. A beautiful, intricate mathematical puzzle that would have challenged most graduate students. "I want you to solve this."
Jiki gave a cursory glance at the equation taking shape on the board, his sharingan allowing him to process the mathematical relationships even as Nanami was still writing. A previous life of advanced tutoring, combined with the accelerated learning he had gone through in this life to make up for the lacking knowledge of his past meant he could already see the answer to the solution.
He casually picked up his pen and started scribbling out the answer while his main attention remained fixed on the world outside. There was something almost meditative about solving mathematical problems while part of his focus remained outside and restless.
The scratch of chalk continued ahead of him as Nanami added the final elements to his equation, an equals sign.
"The first person that solves this gets a time out," Nanami announced, turning back to face the class with the satisfied expression of a teacher who knew exactly how long this particular problem should take his students.
He turned and froze on the spot as he saw Jiki's hand already raised, answer sheet held with the casual confidence of someone who had never doubted the correctness of his solution. The older man didn't even bother with a sigh, instead his lips twitched then he gave a single nod of acknowledgment and gestured toward the door with the resigned air of someone who had long since accepted that conventional teaching methods were inadequate for exceptional students.
Jiki stood up with fluid grace as he headed toward the doors immediately, ignoring Maki's muttered complaints about "stupid smart Gojos". The moment he crossed the threshold, Nanami's voice followed him with a parting statement.
"Don't go too far. I have something to discuss with you later."
Jiki replied with a single respectful nod and then he was on his way, footsteps echoing softly in the damaged corridors. It took him only another few seconds of reflection to realize that Nanami had indeed orchestrated this entire scenario. His exit, the convenient timing, even the choice of mathematical problem.
The older man must have observed how profoundly bored Jiki had been, sitting there like a caged animal pretending to be interested in lessons that covered ground he'd mastered years ago. It was no secret that Jiki had used his hunt for Kenjaku as an excuse to basically run away from the school, to escape the suffocating routine of normal student life when nothing about their situation was normal.
Still, the recent attack had dragged him back, with Kenjaku disappeared once more into whatever shadowy corner of the world he was currently haunting, and with Fushiguro somewhere out there hopefully following his trail, there was little Jiki could do other than wait.
He stepped out of the building and onto broken cobblestones that crunched under his feet. The damage was more extensive than it had appeared from inside; entire sections of the pathway had been torn up and charred, Kashimo's last ditch attack with the Kamutoke had been the most devastating.
However, already, he could see workers trying to repair what they could as fast as they could. Compared to Geto's attack, recovery was proceeding faster and more smoothly.
Jiki's legs carried him forward with unconscious purpose, and as he walked past some of the workers, men and women whose faces were streaked with honest sweat and construction dust, he offered them quiet nods of greeting before walking on, lost in thought once more as his feet found their way along paths his conscious mind wasn't fully tracking.
Satoru had run off again.
Which came as no surprise to anyone who knew the man. Gojo Satoru had many admirable qualities; he was powerful beyond measure, brilliant in ways that sometimes bordered on the prophetic, and capable of inspiring fierce loyalty in those who followed him. But sitting still had never been among his strengths. Alongside the fact that the world did not pause for anybody. Things in Japan had cooled a lot, but Satoru was not simply the strongest sorcerer in Japan. He was the strongest in the world... for now.
His phone rang, cutting through his brooding thoughts like a blade. He came to a stop on the damaged pathway and answered the call, bringing the device to his ear.
"Gojo Jiki here."
"It's Tsumiki." The voice that came through the speaker was crisp, professional, and notably lacking in warmth. "We've accepted the job."
Tsumiki Fushiguro's tone was curt enough to let him know immediately that she was operating in what he had come to think of as her business mode. This was not the friendly chatterbox of a girl with her infectious smile and boundless enthusiasm for even the smallest pleasures in life. This was Tsumiki Fushiguro in her capacity as Toji's handler.
"Alright," he replied, matching her tone.
"However, there's been a slight change to the terms," she continued, completely uncaring about his equally curt response. If they had been face to face, she would have been greeted with a raised eyebrow. Instead, she had to make do with his silence, a deliberate pause that served as an invitation for her to continue.
"We don't want the regular payment," she said, and something in her voice suggested this change wasn't arbitrary. "Instead, we want a favor."
"Name it." The response was immediate, automatic.
"Priority healing for Shui Kong with Shoko Ieiri."
This time, Jiki's silence was the result of a sudden, uncomfortable realization that had hit him. It took a split second for the name to register, bringing with it a cascade of memories. He remembered the ex-military civilian he had subjected to Tsukuyomi.
He had used it to extract information about Toji's location shortly after the Sorcerer Killer had kidnapped their resident healer, and he had told himself it was necessary. He remembered with crystal clarity the side effects of the Tsukuyomi when used on someone without the resilience to withstand it: complete mental breakdown, followed by a coma that could last indefinitely. He had not cared then.
That explained the curt, professional tone Tsumiki was using to address him. The coldness where there had once been something approaching friendship. She wasn't just conducting business, she was holding him accountable for the consequences of his actions, and the price she was demanding was exactly what those consequences deserved.
"Fine," he agreed without hesitation. He did not feel guilt, not truly. However the request was entirely reasonable. If Lady Tsunade had possessed the medical knowledge and chakra control necessary to heal someone from a Tsukuyomi-induced coma, then Shoko should be equally capable.
It was the least he could do. It was, quite literally, the least he owed.
Tsumiki let out a breath over the phone connection, a small sound that somehow managed to convey relief, satisfaction. A second later, the call ended with the sharp click of disconnection.
He looked up from his phone to discover where his restless wandering had carried him during the conversation. The entrance to the Tomb of the Sky Corridor.
This time, when he stretched out his senses to probe the area, there was no barrier waiting to challenge him. No invisible wall of cursed energy to stop him. Tengen had lowered the defenses, and there was no need for him to threaten to call down the wrath of a god just to gain entry.
It was an invitation so he simply took a step forward and crossed the threshold.
Unlike the last time he had come to visit Master Tengen, Jiki didn't bother with the scenic route. He had no patience for admiring the interior.
He ran past it all, his footsteps echoing strangely in passages. He ignored the priceless artifacts, the architectural marvels. Instead, he took the last flight of stairs two at a time, his enhanced physical capabilities allowing him to cover ground at a pace that would have left ordinary humans gasping for breath.
Finally, he reached the elevator that led down into the deepest levels of the Tomb of the Sky Corridor and without Emi to guide him this time, he fell back on memory and instinct. He retraced the path they had charted together months ago, back when the world had seemed marginally less insane and the threats they faced had been more straightforward.
His senses rippled out like a drop of water falling into a pond, searching for the faint echoes of Master Tengen's unique cursed energy signature. It was unlike anything else he had ever encountered. He used the residual traces in the air following them through corridors until eventually, after what felt like hours but had probably been only minutes, his journey ended. He opened a nondescript door and stepped in.
The familiar room stretched out before him. Soft, diffused light shone from the white hexagonal panels that made up the barrier walls, creating patterns. In the center of it all stood the sakura tree, exactly as he remembered it, blooming without regard for season.
And in front of that impossible tree, seated with the meditation-like ease of someone who had found perfect peace within themselves, was the unmistakable figure of Master Tengen.
Four white, pupil-less eyes settled on Jiki as he entered the chamber, but their attention seemed primarily focused on the tea ceremony they were conducting. Graceful hands moved with deliberate calm and centuries of practiced precision, preparing the ritual with the kind of attention to detail that transformed simple actions into high art.
Two cups sat on the low table. One was already filled and waiting for him.
"I see you took your time, Gojo Jiki," came the voice, lightly amused but steady, carrying undertones of vast experience and patient wisdom. It was the same strange body as before, alien yet somehow dignified.
Master Tengen gestured toward the empty seat across from them. "Sit."
Jiki gave a simple nod, respectful. The hostility and barely contained anger that had characterized their last meeting were gone, replaced by something that might have been called apathy.
He stepped forward to settle into the offered chair and without hesitation, lifted the delicate porcelain tea cup to his lips.
"Master Tengen," he began, after a quick sip. "I assume you're already aware of the recent attack on the school."
There was no edge to his tone this time. No barely concealed accusation lurking beneath the surface of his words. No suggestion that he held the ancient sorcerer responsible for failing to prevent the assault on their sanctuary.
Master Tengen paused in their preparations, as if taking a moment to register and appreciate the fundamental shift in Jiki's demeanor. When they spoke, there was something that might have been approval in their voice.
"Yes," the immortal sorcerer said, setting the ornate teapot aside "From the moment Ganesha used his cursed technique to slip past my barriers to the moment you confronted Kenjaku and forced him to draw on his cursed energy reserves again... I was aware of it all."
Their four eyes blinked slowly, still maintaining that forced and practiced mimicry of humanity. They studied Jiki with the kind of attention usually reserved for particularly interesting puzzles.
"I take it he was headed here?" they asked, though the question carried the weight of someone who already knew the answer. "Considering how close your battle brought you to this place, and given his historical obsession with what I represent?"
Jiki took another sip of the perfectly prepared tea, using the moment to organize his thoughts before responding. "That's our working assumption," he confirmed with the kind of professional detachment that was second nature. "He was also actively hunting for Itadori Yuji, but with Satoru away and me supposedly out of position chasing false leads, he was clearly hoping to accomplish multiple objectives at once."
"Kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes," Master Tengen observed with something that might have been dark humor. "But you returned in time," Tengen continued, and something remarkable happened. They smiled, a small, genuinely human expression that seemed strange coming from features that had been transformed by supernatural evolution.
"Fate may be a shattered concept, and my own workings compromised by forces beyond my immediate control... but still, when it mattered most, a Gojo was there to protect me. Six Eyes or not, your bloodline proved its worth once again."
Their smile lingered for a moment longer, carrying warmth before they slowly rose from their seated position with some measure of grace, "Thank you, Gojo Jiki," they said with simple sincerity. Then they bowed.
It was a small movement, curt but unmistakably sincere, and it was enough to make Jiki go completely still, his tea cup frozen halfway to his lips.
He remembered with uncomfortable clarity the way he had left things during their last encounter. but just as he had chosen to return here without that corrosive anger eating away at his judgment, Master Tengen had apparently chosen to receive him without holding grudges for past hostilities.
Still, seeing the immortal sorcerer bowing in gratitude was disconcerting. So he decided to steer the conversation toward more familiar ground.
"Are you going to Introduce me to the stranger?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Master Tengen's smile froze for just a fraction of a second, a micro-expression that would have been invisible to normal human perception but was crystal clear to the sharingan. Then they straightened up fully and released a low, genuinely amused chuckle that seemed to echo strangely in the barrier-enclosed space.
"I told you..." they said, looking away from Jiki toward the far wall of the chamber, "you wouldn't be able to hide from his eyes forever. He may not carry the Six Eyes, but the mutation's perception capabilities are nothing to underestimate."
As if responding to some unspoken signal, the barrier that lined the chamber walls began to ripple like the surface of a disturbed pond. Hairline cracks formed along its previously seamless surface, spreading outward then it broke apart entirely, dissolving cleanly into the component hexagonal panels that lined the walls.
A woman stepped out of the barrier, Tall with an athletic build that spoke of intense training. A physique that was hidden under a black worn leather jacket mixed with Jujutsu regulation black Chinese sleeveless inner, as well as a blue jeans and a matching pair of brown shin high boots. Brown eyes, and a wide smile greeted him as well as a long shock of bright blonde hair that trailed down the woman's back and to her waist.
Without the barrier hiding her and masking her curse energy signature, her presence filled the room without effort. Special grade level of curse energy. She glanced down at where Jiki was sitting, and her grin widened till she was showing teeth. Jiki knew a challenge when he saw one
"So," she said, one hand in her jean pocket, the other holding onto the collar of her jacket swung over her shoulders, "I've heard a lot bout what a little genus you are, Gojo Jiki, and I thought it was time I officially met the youngest special grade sorcerer in history."
Jiki didn't smile. He just lowered his cup. "Nice to meet you as well Tsukimo Yuki," he said flatly as he smoothly dropped the cup and transitioned to his feet to face her.
Her smile eased, and she gave him an inquiring look. "I'm curious about what you must've heard about me, however there are more questions of critical importance that come first,. She suddenly lost her smile, radiating such seriousness Jiki was forced to tense in anticipation of violence till she continued. "what kind of girls do you like?"
Huh?