I sat inside a sleek, jet-black car that glided smoothly along the road, its interior so perfectly insulated that not a single sound from outside seeped in. The seats felt luxurious, the scent of polished leather lingering in the air—a far cry from my dad's old car, where the AC barely worked and the radio only played static.
Next to me, Gojo-sensei lounged in his seat, his usual carefree air intact as he gazed out the tinted window.
I glanced down at the ID card in my hand.
Jujutsu High ID
Name: Izaya OtigawaRank: Special Grade
I blinked at the title.
Special Grade.
The words stared back at me, heavy and surreal.
I knew I was strong. But Special Grade?
I was still processing when Gojo turned toward me, his usual grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh, right! I forgot to explain how the power-ranking system works for Jujutsu Sorcerers."
I raised an eyebrow but listened.
"Sorcerers and curses are divided into five ranks," he began. "The weakest is Grade 4. You could take one down with a wooden bat. Grade 3? A handgun should do the trick."
"Then we have Grade 2—that's where things get serious. Even a shotgun might not cut it. Grade 1? A tank might not be enough to stop someone at that level."
He tilted his head toward me, his smirk widening.
"And finally, at the very top, we have Special Grade. People like you and me. To kill someone at our level? Cluster bombs might work… maybe."
The casual way he said it sent a small chill down my spine, but I couldn't stop the grin that tugged at my lips.
Cluster bombs? Sounds survivable.
From the driver's seat, Ichiji chuckled.
"You know, Izaya-kun, at Jujutsu High, students are considered geniuses if they reach Grade 2 while still in school." He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, smiling. "And you… you're not even in high school yet, and you're already Special Grade. That's the kind of thing you only see once in a generation—like Gojo-san here."
His words hung in the air for a moment before he added, "Do you realize how rare you are? There are only four Special Grade sorcerers alive right now—including you."
I tilted my head slightly. "Is that so? That does make me feel special."
Ichiji coughed, but Gojo chimed in, smug as ever.
"Special? Don't sell yourself short, kid. You're not just special… you're one of the few."
One of the few, huh.
The phrase thrilled me.
And yet, deep inside, it unsettled me.
The car continued its smooth ride, the forest around us thickening. Then, up ahead, a towering gate came into view.
Bold, ancient lettering loomed above it:
Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.
As we approached, the massive gate creaked open, its movements deliberate and heavy with intent—as if sensing our presence.
Inside, the campus stretched out before me, a perfect blend of nature and tradition. Classical Japanese architecture, with curved roofs, wooden beams, and intricate carvings. Towering trees framed the area, their leaves rustling in the wind. Statues of deities stood watch, their expressions serene yet imposing.
Gojo gestured lazily.
"It operates under the guise of a Buddhist temple," he said with a grin.
We walked toward the main hall, where Principal Yaga waited.
The moment we entered, my eyes were drawn to the man sitting at the center.
Principal Yaga.
He sat surrounded by cursed puppets, his hands deftly stitching one with uncanny precision. The faint scent of wood and thread filled the air.
Without pausing, he glanced up at me through his dark sunglasses, his expression unreadable.
The silence stretched, every second feeling like a trial.
I bowed deeply.
"It's an honor to meet you, Principal Yaga. I'm Izaya Otigawa."
He studied me for a long moment before setting down the puppet.
"Gojo's told me about you." His voice was low and gruff. "You're young… but in this line of work, age doesn't matter. Only strength does."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me, Izaya. Why do you want to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer?"
The question struck deeper than I expected.
I straightened. "I have various reasons, sir. Such as—"
"Just one." His voice was sharp, cutting through my words. "The one that matters. The one that will drive you forward, even when nothing else does."
His gaze was unwavering.
I exhaled slowly.
To protect people?To escape normalcy?For the thrill?To get rich?
No.
I knew the answer.
I smirked slightly.
"I want to achieve a higher version of myself… to reach the next level."
The room fell silent.
Yaga's face remained unreadable, but the weight in the air shifted.
"And if, in the process, you might die?" he asked.
I met his gaze.
"Then I'll die. But I won't stop."
Gojo let out a quiet chuckle from where he leaned against a pillar, arms crossed.
Yaga stared at me for a long moment before sighing.
"All right, you got me with this one, Gojo."
Then, to me, his expression softened slightly.
"If you had said something sentimental like 'to save human lives,' I would've revoked your license until you turned 15." His lips twitched. "But your answer tells me you're strong—not just physically, but mentally."
He nodded.
"Congratulations. You're officially a Jujutsu Sorcerer."
"Thank you, Principal."
Gojo clapped his hands together, grinning.
"So, Izaya, have you decided? Will you stay here, or live with your parents?"
I took a breath.
My heart whispered one answer.I want to live with my parents.
But my voice said something else.
"I will stay here, sensei."
Gojo gave me a thumbs-up."All right! Training starts tomorrow!"
The Shadows Watch
After we left, a pair of curious eyes peeked out from the shadows.
"It's fine, Panda. He's gone."
From behind a pile of cursed puppets, a literal panda emerged, scratching his head.
"He's insane," Panda muttered. "You let him become a sorcerer? He's gonna get himself killed."
Yaga stared at the empty doorway, his voice thoughtful.
"Crazy? Maybe."
He smirked.
"But in this world, it's often the crazy ones who survive the longest."