Tap. Tap. Tap.
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from behind. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
"Tora, you’re still standing?" His voice was flat, but something lurked beneath it. Concern? Or just plain judgment?
This person was my older brother.
I let out a sigh. "I am. But my body feels like it’s carrying an invisible weight."
A short, dry laugh.
"Pathetic," his voice grated against my ears before he fully stepped into the room.
He stood there, wearing faded striped shorts and a tight tank top that clung to his ribs. His messy brown hair was even wilder than usual, as if he’d been caught in a gust of wind. In his hand was a plastic bag—probably filled with medicine or snacks, I guessed.
"Don’t act tough if you’re just gonna end up being a burden," he grumbled, tossing the bag onto the bed. His eyes—identical to mine—paused on the dirty bandages wrapped around my stomach. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, the roughness in his tone faded.
He stepped closer, his calloused fingers brushing the edge of the wound. "Did you clean it?"
I shook my head.
"Damn idiot, still a kid after all." He exhaled sharply before roughly opening the bag. Inside were a bottle of alcohol, cotton pads, and some cheap ointment. Without another word, he began cleaning my wound, his touch gentler than usual.
"Seems like you’ve been slacking on training, idiot," he muttered. But I knew—from the way he bit his lower lip, from the way he stared at my wound like it was his fault—he was scared.
"Look at this brat, daring to talk back to me like that," I thought.
"Looks like your wound’s getting better. You know, you were out for two days. Let’s go see Grandma Ogami. She told me to bring you as soon as you woke up."
"Grandma Ogami?!"
Right… it came back to me now. Grandma Ogami was the one who took care of us. Our parents had abandoned us, leaving us behind without a second thought. In this child’s memories, Grandma Ogami was kind to them, even if her training was harsh—unlike their parents, who had cast them aside.
But I couldn’t bring myself to trust this child’s memories. Grandma Ogami was a wicked old woman who only cared about herself, sacrificing others for her own gain. She even kidnapped young children to turn them into her "grandchildren"—including the ones who stood by her during the Shibuya Incident.
She hadn’t shown an ounce of concern when this child was injured during their fight against Takuma Ino. How brainwashed were they by this vile woman? But in the end, she was killed by Toji Fushiguro—because reviving Toji was her greatest mistake.
"Heavenly Restriction" (Ten to Jubaku)
A unique concept in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, where a person is born without certain abilities but gains extraordinary power in other areas.
"Ah, I want to make him my shikigami," I whispered.
"Did you say something?"
"No. Let’s go see Grandma Ogami."
As we walked toward her room, I wondered—was it dangerous to consume Toji Fushiguro’s body? I quickly dismissed the cowardly thought. If I could ingest Toji’s body, I’d gain immense benefits. When I touched that light in my dream, I was granted knowledge: by consuming the bodies of jujutsu sorcerers, cursed spirits, shikigami, or even humans, they would become 100% loyal to me. That was what the glowing orb had explained.
But the problem was—cursed spirits and shikigami disappear within seconds after death. Maybe four to six seconds, sometimes even one or two. Human bodies, however, don’t vanish immediately.
According to this child’s memories, it was currently 2006. Anxiety burned in my chest. In just four months, the legendary battle would take place: Toji Fushiguro vs. Satoru Gojo—a clash of forces that would change everything.
"Still hurts?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, a little," I said, trying not to show how every step sent a sharp throb through my wound. "But not as bad as before my shikigami half-healed me."
My brother sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don’t push yourself. Grandma Ogami will be furious if you’re not fully healed."
I could only frown. But doubt gnawed at me.
___________
Outside Grandma Ogami’s Room
Light seeped through the cracks, painting golden streaks on the floor. I raised my hand, but before I could knock—
"Come in," Grandma Ogami’s voice called from inside, as if she’d known we were coming.
My brother pushed the door open gently. The room was warm, filled with the scent of incense and herbal remedies. Grandma Ogami sat cross-legged at a low table, brewing tea. Her sharp eyes immediately locked onto us—especially the bandages on my stomach.
"Sit," she commanded.
We knelt before her. She poured tea and wordlessly placed cups in front of us.
"That wound on your stomach," she said, pointing at me with her long prayer beads. "Do you think it’s healed?"
I clenched my teeth. "Not yet… but I can start training slowly."
"Fool!" she snapped, her voice booming. "Do you want to die young? A second-grade cursed wound isn’t something to take lightly. If you push yourself now, it’ll only get worse."
My brother lowered his head, but I saw his eyes flicker—like he wanted to defend me but knew Grandma Ogami was right.
She let out a long sigh, then pulled something from inside her kimono—a small pouch of black powder. "Take this twice a day. Mix it with warm water."
I accepted it carefully. "Thank you, Grandma."
"Training can wait," she continued, her voice softer now. "But strength isn’t something you rush. Heal completely first. Then you can return to the dojo."
"Finish your tea and go rest."
We drank in silence, then stood to leave. As the door closed behind us, my brother looked at me.
"Listen to Grandma. I don’t wanna lose my little brother just because he’s stubborn."
I studied his face. "Yeah, fine."
---
The peaceful morning air turned sharp as giggling laughter echoed from the end of the hallway.
"Hah! Look, it’s the prodigy who almost died on his first mission!"
My brother and I turned. The "Three Ogami Grandchildren"—Yuno, Ren, and Sora—stood there with smirks. Yuno, the tallest, rested a wooden sword on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed in mockery.
"A second-grade curse nearly killed you," Ren added, grinning. "Is Grandma really wasting her time training someone as weak as you?"
My brother tensed immediately. His fists clenched, but I held his arm before he could do anything rash.
Sora, the smallest but slyest, sauntered closer. "Your brother’s always saving you, huh? When are you gonna stand on your own? Or are you just dead weight?"
My stomach burned—not from the wound, but from fury.
"ENOUGH."
The voice thundered behind us. Grandma Ogami stood in her doorway, her face dark like a stormcloud.
"If you have time to mock others, you have time to swing your swords a thousand times in the dojo!"
The three immediately fell silent, their faces pale.
I glared at Grandma Ogami, fire in my eyes.
"Grandma… let me spar with them once my wound heals."
My brother stared at me in shock. "Are you insane? They’re more experienced!"
"That’s exactly why," I cut in, my trembling hands curling into fists. "I need to see how far behind I am."
Grandma Ogami studied me with a piercing gaze—then suddenly smiled. A rare expression that sent chills down my spine.
"Fine," she murmured, tapping her cane against the floor. "Two weeks from now, if your wound has closed. Yuno, Ren, Sora… versus you."
"I’m joining too," my brother interjected coldly. "Two against three. More fair."
The tension thickened.
Yuno scoffed. "Sure. Two weeks from now. Don’t run away, hero."
Grandma Ogami sighed. "If you lose, the three of you will wash all the training uniforms for three months!"
"Hah?! But Grandma—"
"Silence! I told you not to pick fights!"
The three grumbled as they left, but their smirks never faded.
I watched their backs, whispering under my breath:
"Two weeks… I’ll be ready."
My brother patted my shoulder. "We’ll train every day until you’re strong enough. Once you’re healed."
Grandma Ogami closed her eyes, then turned away, muttering:
"Hmph… Just wait, Satoru Gojo. You took my freedom… I’ll take everything from you."