The sun rose lazily over the courtyard of Tokyo Jujutsu High, casting long golden rays across the stone pathways and trimmed grass. A cool breeze swept through the trees, stirring the air with the scent of fresh earth and distant blossoms.
Souten Mikazuki stood quietly at the edge of the training field, his arms crossed loosely behind his back. His silver hair caught the sunlight, glowing faintly against the backdrop of the morning sky. His expression was calm—steadier, more grounded than it had been a year ago.
Nearby, Seizuki, his four armed Shikigami hovered in her spiritual form, arms folded across her chest as she regarded him with a small, knowing smile. He had given her that name as he felt like it fit her well.
"You have definitely made great progress master.."
Seizuki spoke up, her gaze looking at Souten up and down. However there was an unmistakable smirk on her face as she spoke. Souten knew what that smirk meant.
"Now you aren't spending an arm and a leg in cursed energy just to patch yourself up."
"Healing others, however, still leaves much to be desired."
There was a pause before her next words.
"And your Domain Expansion attempts are commendable, but crude. You lack polish, Master."
Souten hummed quietly at her words.
Still. A year ago, he had felt like an ant in a sea of elephants. Now he felt like he might slowly be growing into a sorcerer who might be able to protect those close to him..
A full year had passed since the Finger Bearer incident. Since that day, nothing—and everything—had changed.
A crow cried in the distance, the only sound cutting through the heavy stillness of the grounds. The air itself seemed thicker now than it had a year ago—colder, heavier, burdened by unseen tensions—and yet, Souten moved through it with ease.
I'm not the same boy who thought he had to carry everything alone, he thought. But the world hasn't grown any kinder either.
Souten watched it for a moment longer before closing his eyes briefly, breathing in the crisp morning air. It wasn't peace exactly—not in the way most people would describe it. It was something quieter, steadier. The kind of calm that came not from ignorance, but from acceptance.
Today felt... different.
The air carried a tension he couldn't quite put into words yet, but it prickled along his skin all the same.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew.
This was only the beginning.
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The courtyard was already emptying by the time Souten felt the faint tug — a small pulse of cursed energy, a simple signal. A summons.
He exhaled slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves, and began walking toward the administrative wing. The corridors of Jujutsu High felt heavier now than they had a year ago — the air soaked with the burdens its students would one day carry. But Souten walked them with steady steps, no longer weighed down by unseen chains.
He stopped at a door with a gold plaque reading Satoru Gojo — the man's handwriting was scribbled over it in permanent marker, reducing the formal name to a single, lopsided "Gojo-sensei."
Souten knocked once.
"Come iiiin~," Gojo's voice rang out, light and irreverent.
Pushing open the door, Souten entered to find Gojo sprawled lazily across a couch, blindfold tugged up just enough to reveal a lazy, grinning eye. He twirled a small wrapped candy between two fingers like a coin.
Souten stood at ease, silent.
Gojo snorted. "Still stiff as a board I see. Lighten up, Mikazuki-kun."
The teasing faded after a moment, replaced by a more measured tone. Gojo sat up properly, planting his elbows on his knees.
"Jokes aside," he said, voice lowering, "there's a reason I called you in."
He tossed the candy across the room — it bounced off the wall with a light tap.
"You're officially being assigned as a mentor-in-training for the new First Years," Gojo said. "Yuji Itadori. Megumi Fushiguro. Nobara Kugisaki. Remember the names — they're a handful."
Souten's gaze didn't waver.
Gojo continued, more serious now. "Normally I'd do it myself. But between other... responsibilities," a slight, rare tension flickered through his posture, "I can't always be here to watch them closely. I need someone strong. Someone I can actually trust with their safety."
Gojo stood up, stretching with a groan before casually clapping Souten on the shoulder.
"Oh yeah, almost forgot — today's your one-year mark here, Mr. Mikazuki," Gojo said, flashing a wide grin. "Congratulations! You survived! And..." he added, with an exaggerated dramatic gasp, "the Higher Ups have decided to stop dragging their feet and officially promote you to Special Grade."
He leaned in with a mock whisper, "Might've had to twist a few arms to get it through, but hey — paperwork's paperwork."
Souten gave a small nod. His face remained calm, but something inside settled with quiet satisfaction. A year ago, he wouldn't have even dreamed of standing here, much less being recognized.
However, Gojo went back to his more lazy smile as he threw three folders on the desk in front of him for Souten.
"Alright, here you go. This is their files for you. Gives you a rundown on what they can do. And that Yuji kid, it's supposed to be a secret — but you should know. He's carrying Ryomen Sukuna inside him."
Gojo's tone shifted slightly, losing some of its usual lightness.
"The Higher Ups decided his job is to find and eat all of Sukuna's fingers. And when the time comes... well, they're planning to execute him once it's over."
He shrugged like it was nothing, but Souten caught the tightness behind the motion.
"So they just want to execute a kid who's barely 15? That doesn't seem right."
Souten replied to Gojo as the strongest met his gaze and for the first time since he had ever met Gojo he pulled down his blindfold to meet his gaze.
"You don't have to agree with it. I sure as hell don't. But for now, your job's simple: watch over him. Help him grow. Make sure he is able to live a little."
He leaned back again, arms flopping wide like a scarecrow.
"And don't mess it up, alright?"
Outside the window, the wind shifted, scattering a few stray leaves across the training fields.
The storm was coming.
But this time, Souten wouldn't face it alone.
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It wasn't long before Souten found himself standing inside the First-Year classroom, the late morning sun casting long beams through the open windows across the wooden floors. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of activity elsewhere on campus.
Gojo leaned casually against a nearby wall, hands shoved into his pockets, blindfold firmly back in place. "Alright, Mikazuki-kun, time to meet your little band of misfits."
Souten straightened slightly, adjusting his cuffs out of unconscious habit as he watched three figures approach through the open doorway.
The first — a boy with pink hair and an almost blindingly open smile — moved with easy, athletic confidence. Strong body. Stronger spirit, Souten noted silently. But dangerously naive. He wears his heart on his sleeve — and in this world, that's a liability as much as a strength.
Next came a girl with short brown hair, her stride sharp and unapologetic. Her gaze scanned the room immediately, taking stock like a soldier entering enemy territory. Prideful, Souten thought, but not recklessly so. She knows her worth — and she'll fight anyone who questions it.
Trailing a few steps behind was a dark-haired boy, quieter, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp and calculating. Cautious. Controlled. Dangerous, if provoked. There was something simmering beneath Fushiguro's calm exterior — a potential that, if mishandled, could be as destructive as any curse.
"Yo!" Gojo called out, waving a hand dramatically. "Kids, meet your new big brother — Mikazuki Souten, the newest Special Grade and one of the two people in the school with more cursed energy than me! Try not to give him too many headaches, alright?"
The pink-haired boy, Yuji Itadori, grinned wide and waved enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you!" he said, loud and genuine, the kind of sincerity that could disarm even the most jaded.
The girl, Nobara Kugisaki, gave Souten an appraising glance, crossing her arms with a small, approving smirk. "You don't look half-bad. Better than I expected for Gojo-sensei's taste."
Megumi Fushiguro offered only a slight nod of acknowledgment, his glance quick but assessing.
Souten inclined his head slightly, acknowledging each in turn. His gaze lingered a moment longer on Yuji — sensing, beneath the bright surface, the faint echo of something ancient and monstrous.
"Likewise," Souten said simply.
Gojo clapped his hands together, shattering the moment. "Alright, kids! Let's get this show on the road. Souten's here to help whip you all into shape. Show him what you've got — and don't embarrass me!"
As the three first-years broke into easy chatter amongst themselves, Souten remained silent, observing them carefully.
New bonds, he thought, folding his arms loosely. New responsibilities.
And this time, he welcomed them.
He stepped forward, just enough to draw their attention again. "Before we get to anything serious," Souten said, his tone calm but firm, "I want to understand how each of you fights. Your Cursed Techniques — explain them to me. What do you rely on in battle?"
The trio paused for a beat. Yuji was the first to speak, rubbing the back of his head. "Well... I don't actually have a Cursed Technique yet. I mostly fight using Cursed Energy reinforcement — physical stuff. Punches, kicks, that sort of thing. Gojo-sensei says I'm kind of a late bloomer."
"That's one way of putting it," Nobara muttered.
She lifted her hand. "I use a Straw Doll Technique. It's binding-based. I can channel Cursed Energy through nails and link it to a doll to hit my opponent indirectly. Pretty great for target-specific attacks."
Souten nodded slightly, eyes moving to Megumi.
Megumi didn't hesitate. "Ten Shadows Technique. I summon Shikigami from shadows to fight alongside me. Each has a purpose — offense, defense, support."
Souten blinked, a flicker of recognition sparking behind his eyes. Ten Shadows? His gaze sharpened subtly as something clicked into place — the unease he'd felt earlier around Megumi, the sense of barely leashed danger.
That's it. The tenth shadow. The Divine General.
Everyone raised in a traditional sorcerer clan knew the legend — the cursed technique tied to the Zen'in clan, capable of summoning Mahoraga, a being that even ancient sorcerers feared. It wasn't just a technique. It was a legacy of calamity.
He didn't let the surprise show on his face. But inwardly, he noted it: This one... is far more dangerous than he lets on.
There was a beat of silence before Nobara rolled her eyes. "He always makes it sound way less terrifying than it is."
"I don't exaggerate," Megumi replied evenly.
Souten took in their responses with a neutral expression, arms folded loosely. "Good. You're varied. That's useful. Learn to trust each other's strengths. Exploit the enemy's weaknesses."
He turned to go but stopped at the doorway, glancing back one last time.
"In a little bit, I'll see for myself what those techniques can really do. Be ready."
And with that, he exited the room, leaving the first-years exchanging curious glances — already wondering what their new mentor had in store for them.
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Later that afternoon, the four of them stood in one of the outdoor sparring fields, a ring of soft dirt bordered by flattened grass. The sun had shifted to a more golden hue, casting long shadows across the campus.
Souten faced the trio, arms folded. "I won't ask for everything at once. But I need to see how you move. How you think."
Yuji cracked his knuckles with a grin. "So, a sparring match?"
"More like a practical assessment," Souten replied. "I want each of you to try and land at least one strike against me. Show me what you're capable of, even if it's just one clean hit."
Nobara raised an eyebrow. "You're seriously going to let us come at you one at a time?"
"No," Souten said. "All three at once."
There was a pause.
"Is he serious?" Yuji whispered.
"Dead serious," Megumi muttered, already lowering into a stance.
"You'll get one attempt. Don't hold back," Souten continued, rolling his sleeves slightly. "I'll do the same."
Without another word, the students launched into motion — Nobara flanking wide, Yuji charging head-on, and Megumi hanging back, his shadow already stirring. Souten didn't move.
Not until the very last moment.
In the span of a heartbeat, Souten shifted — just slightly, a breath's width — and Yuji's fist sailed past him, air splitting with the force. He caught Nobara's wrist just before her nail met his arm, twisting her gently but firmly off balance. A familiar rumble rose as Megumi's shadow lurched upward — the silhouette of a Divine Dogs emerging beside him. With practiced precision, Megumi summoned both Divine Dogs — one flanking left, the other right — moving in perfect synchronicity with their master. As they bounded forward, Megumi surged up the middle, forming a trident assault. The dogs struck low and fast, while Megumi aimed high, creating a tightly timed cross-pressure. Souten read the movement instantly, the signature of a coordinated ten shadows user. Instead of reacting with his cursed techniuque, Souten moved with sudden explosive speed — a blur of movement between the Divine Dogs' snapping jaws. He weaved between them with practiced precision, pivoting low to avoid Megumi's high strike and using his momentum to redirect the boy's balance with a sharp palm to the shoulder. The Divine Dogs corrected, lunging again, but Souten spun in close quarters, brushing between their forms and tapping Megumi's elbow in passing — not to harm, but to demonstrate control. Each motion was deliberate, clean, entirely hand-to-hand. No cursed technique. Just skill.
He slid away from the three, still untouched, but his expression had shifted — the briefest flicker of surprise buried beneath his composed exterior.
He stepped back, untouched.
"Again," he said, calm and composed.
This time, they were more coordinated. Sharper. And for the briefest instant, Nobara's nail grazed his sleeve.
Souten smiled just a little. "Better. Keep that pace."
They were still breathing hard when he turned away, the tension in the field slowly fading.
They have potential. Raw, but present, he thought. Now it's time to shape it.
The training stretched on for a couple of hours. Souten rotated through drills and short sparring matches, watching how they adapted, how they learned — and more importantly, how they handled failure.
Yuji had incredible raw power and reaction time, but he relied too heavily on brute force and instinct. Souten made a mental note: He needs refinement. Footwork drills. Tactical restraint. Teach him when not to swing.
Nobara had sharp timing and creative applications of her technique, but her impatience made her predictable. She needs composure training, Souten thought. Pressure scenarios. Force her to slow down and pick her moments.
Megumi, as Souten expected, was the most technical. His mind moved fast, his instincts were sharp, but he second-guessed himself too often, especially when his technique failed to land. Confidence. Repetition in movement. Challenge his hesitation until he overcomes it, Souten decided.
By the end, the sun had lowered past the tree line and the air had cooled. Souten stood a few paces from them as they rested on the grass, panting and drained.
"You've got potential," he said quietly. "But potential won't save your life. Discipline will. Keep showing up like you did today, and I'll make sure you're ready."
Later that evening, Souten returned to the faculty offices and drafted a short but focused report for Gojo. Three profiles, written in clear, efficient strokes:
Yuji Itadori: Raw physicality. High ceiling. Needs refined technique and restraint. Recommend pairing with speed and counter-training.Nobara Kugisaki: Tactical, smart, but impatient. Good under pressure. Recommend timing exercises and advanced decision-making drills.Megumi Fushiguro: Strategic, adaptable, but too cautious. Push him past his hesitation. Recommend complex sparring sequences and high-stakes training.
At the end, he signed his name with one clean stroke.
Mikazuki Souten.
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Souten tapped lightly at Gojo's office door before stepping inside, the report tucked neatly under one arm.
Gojo was lounging behind his desk, balancing a pen between two fingers like he had all the time in the world.
"Ah, if it isn't my favorite new Special Grade," Gojo said, grinning under his blindfold. "What have you got for me?"
Souten placed the report on the desk without a word.
Gojo skimmed through the pages with a lazy speed that somehow still caught every detail. His grin faded slightly as he read, his posture sharpening with real focus.
"You've got a good eye," Gojo finally said, tapping the folder. "You saw exactly what I hoped you would."
Souten nodded once. "They have potential. But it's rough. It'll take time to shape them."
Gojo's smile turned a little sharper — a glint of mischief and something heavier behind it.
"Funny you should say that," he said, tossing the folder lightly aside. "Because you're gonna get a chance to test all that training real soon."
Souten's gaze narrowed slightly.
"There's a mission," Gojo continued. "A cursed womb — one carrying a potential Special Grade — has been spotted at a juvenile detention center. We're tasked with investigating."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice steady.
"The kids' objective is to rescue any survivors inside. That's it. If the womb hatches into a full-blown curse, you're to deal with it — eliminate the threat, and make sure none of them die trying to be heroes."
Souten's gaze narrowed. "So I'm the failsafe."
"You're the shield," Gojo said. "And if need be, the sword."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
"This isn't a test," Gojo added, voice lowering just enough. "It's the real thing."
Souten accepted the gravity without flinching. He bowed slightly at the waist — a gesture of acknowledgment, not submission.
"I'll make sure they come back alive," he said.
Gojo grinned again, bright and dangerous.
"That's the spirit."
Outside the window, dusk had fully settled — and with it, the first whispers of the coming storm.
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