Gojo Satoru spent days with Okkotsu Yuta in the abandoned hospital, a stark testament to his singular focus when it truly mattered. He didn't just fight the grotesque Rika; he talked. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He laid out the brutal truth: Yuta was a walking disaster, a magnet for curses, a danger to himself and others if he didn't learn to control the overwhelming power that flowed from his childhood trauma.
"You're going to come to Jujutsu High," Gojo stated, not as a suggestion, but as an undeniable fact, his voice firm yet oddly gentle. He saw the terror in Yuta's eyes, the boy's desperate desire to isolate himself, to vanish. "You'll learn to control Rika, to understand your cursed energy. You'll learn how to live with this power, instead of being consumed by it."
Yuta, huddled in the corner, clutching the small engagement ring that was Rika's anchor, shook his head. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I just want to be alone. I don't want this power."
"That's not an option, kid," Gojo replied, his voice hardening slightly. "You're a Special Grade. The higher-ups don't like anomalies. They'll try to get rid of you. They'll try to use you. Jujutsu High is the only place you'll be truly safe, the only place where you can learn to be yourself, not just a vessel for Rika." He extended a hand. "I can teach you. I can protect you. But you have to take the first step."
It was a long, arduous conversation, stretching over hours, punctuated by Rika's low growls and the ever-present hum of her immense, cursed energy. Gojo dismantled Yuta's self-loathing, piece by piece, revealing the truth about Rika – that she was not just a curse, but a manifestation of his profound grief and love. He showed Yuta the possibility of redemption, of strength born from connection, not isolation. Eventually, exhausted and desperate for a semblance of control, Yuta took Gojo's outstretched hand.
A New Classmate
A few days later, the news rippled through the school: a new transfer student was joining their first-year class. Arata felt a prickle of anticipation. Kusakabe and Nanami had been relentless, pushing them to their breaking points. The "frogs in a well" barb resonated deeply, urging Arata to refine his Sanguine Genesis even further. He practiced his control over Crimson Erosion in secret, testing it on small, inanimate objects, trying to understand its fundamental nature and how to activate it without fully depleting himself. It was a frightening power, one he knew he would only fully master when faced with death, but its potential was undeniable.
The classroom door slid open, and Gojo Satoru strode in, his usual flamboyant grin fixed in place. "Alright, brats! Settle down, settle down! We have a new friend joining us today. Try not to scare him off too quickly!"
Behind him, a figure hesitantly entered. It was Okkotsu Yuta.
Arata's breath hitched. The overwhelming, cursed energy he had sensed days ago, the immense, sorrowful presence, was undeniably attached to this quiet, unassuming boy. Yuta looked even more anxious up close, his shoulders hunched, his dark eyes darting nervously around the room, avoiding direct contact. He clutched his hands together, almost protectively, and Arata could practically feel the immense, wild energy simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.
Maki, sitting beside Arata, stiffened. She immediately sensed the raw power, her eyes narrowing in assessment. Inumaki, seated in front, shifted subtly, his collar rising slightly higher. Panda, ever observant, simply tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Alright, Yuta, introduce yourself!" Gojo prompted, his voice cheerfully oblivious to the palpable tension in the room.
Yuta swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. "Uhm… I'm Okkotsu Yuta. It's… nice to meet you." He offered a small, awkward bow, his gaze fixed on his shoes.
Maki was the first to speak, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence. "He's got a lot of cursed energy." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact, laced with her usual bluntness.
Yuta flinched, visibly recoiling. As he did, the air in the classroom shifted dramatically. A sudden, bone-chilling surge of cursed energy erupted from behind him, causing the light fixtures to flicker violently. A grotesque, malformed arm, shadowy and vast, briefly materialized from the air above Yuta's shoulder, its long, clawed fingers reaching out, its presence radiating pure, unadulterated possessiveness and malice. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but its impact was undeniable.
The other students gasped, some recoiling in their chairs, a few letting out small cries of alarm. Even Maki's confident posture wavered for a second, her hand instinctively going to her weapon.
Gojo, however, remained utterly unfazed. His smile didn't falter, though his hand, almost imperceptibly, moved. The surge of cursed energy immediately stabilized, pulled back, as if a wild beast had been gently, yet firmly, reined in. "Oh, you noticed, Maki-chan? Very perceptive! Yes, that's Rika, Yuta's little 'friend'! And yes, Yuta here is actually a Special Grade! Pretty amazing, right?" He beamed, utterly missing the discomfort of his new student and the shock on the faces of the others.
"Special Grade?" Arata heard another classmate whisper. "But he looks so… weak."
Arata felt a pang of understanding, an uncomfortable resonance. He, too, was a Special Grade. He, too, had a hidden, overwhelming power that often felt like a curse. He saw the profound guilt in Yuta's eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to slump under an invisible weight. It was a different kind of burden than his own, less about expectation and more about involuntary consequence, but it was a burden nonetheless. Arata's power was a weapon he wielded, sometimes terrifyingly so. Yuta's power felt like a beast he barely contained, a manifestation of grief that was consuming him.
Gojo, meanwhile, seemed to observe Yuta with an intense, underlying seriousness Arata had come to associate with the gravity of their world. He sometimes caught snippets of Gojo talking to Yuta outside of class, long, low conversations where Gojo's usually booming voice was gentle, almost soothing. Arata couldn't hear the words, but he understood the intent. Gojo was trying to pull Yuta from the brink, just as he had pulled Arata. He was trying to teach him to live with his power, rather than be crushed by it. The sheer dedication Gojo showed this new, raw student confirmed Arata's growing suspicion: Yuta Okkotsu was incredibly important.
"Alright, everyone," Gojo said, drawing their attention back. "Be nice to Yuta. He's a sensitive soul, and he's been through a lot. Your first task will be to make him feel welcome. Your next task will be to make him strong enough to actually survive in this crazy world." He winked, a glint of genuine seriousness in his uncovered eye.
As class continued, Arata found himself observing Yuta. He noticed the immense, untamed, cursed energy that fluctuated around him, sometimes spiking with anxiety, sometimes calming with focus. It was a power utterly different from his own precise, manipulated blood, yet equally vast. Arata felt a strange mix of kinship and unease. Yuta was a mirror, reflecting what happened when power was consumed, when it went unchecked. It was a chilling thought for Arata, who was trying so desperately to master his own monstrous abilities, to bend them to his will rather than be bent by them.
He knew Gojo was playing a deeper game, integrating Yuta into the school, into their class, for a reason. And as the days turned into a week, and the news of escalating cursed spirit activity grew more dire, Arata knew that Yuta's presence, and the sheer magnitude of the cursed energy he brought, would soon play a critical role in the looming storm. The shadows were lengthening, and the stage was slowly being set for a confrontation that would test every sorcerer, Special Grade or not, to their very core.