Ten years later... in a small, remote county town.
"The Jujutsu High School entrance test is about to start again!"
"I wonder if I have any talent for cursed energy..."
"What's there to be excited about? It's all fighting and killing every day. Can you even live long enough to retire at 55 or 65? It's just bleak!"
"Why 65? Why not 70? Who gave you the right to decide that?"
A crowd had gathered in front of the school notice board.
This was Sugisawa Third High School in Miyagi Prefecture.
Today marked the annual test for cursed energy.
Those who possessed cursed power would have the opportunity to attend Jujutsu High School and potentially become Jujutsu sorcerers in the future.
The three stages of cursed energy aptitude were about to be revealed!
"Didn't we already take this test after junior high? Can someone without cursed energy suddenly gain it later?"
A voice bluntly shattered everyone's hopes.
The speaker was a boy with short, spiky pink hair, the tips black, and striking light-gold pupils. His face held only innocent curiosity.
Everyone turned to glare at him.
A girl in glasses quickly rushed forward, covering his mouth and dragging him away, flustered.
"I'm sorry! He didn't mean anything by it!"
Their figures faded into the distance and soon disappeared altogether.
"Was that... Itadori Yuji?"
"Who?"
"He's pretty famous. Super athletic. The track coach has been trying to recruit him for years."
"Oh, a sports guy? That explains it. No wonder..."
Itadori, now in a corner with Sasaki-senpai, scratched the back of his head in confusion.
"Sasaki-senpai, did I say something wrong?"
Breathing heavily, Sasaki leaned against the wall, visibly annoyed.
"Having cursed energy is everyone's dream these days. Of course they're going to be mad if you point out their shortcomings like that."
Itadori wasn't slow-witted—far from it. He had high emotional intelligence. He just didn't understand why people desired to become Jujutsu sorcerers so desperately.
Raised by his grandfather, Itadori had been taught the importance of doing what was right. To him, being born without cursed energy was just a natural state—a kind of correctness in itself.
"Is being a Jujutsu sorcerer really that great?" he murmured.
Sasaki-senpai's gaze dimmed. As students in a regular high school, they had no chance of ever becoming sorcerers. And yet, that dream was the very foundation of their Ghost Story Research Club.
"Don't worry, Sasaki-senpai. Who says you need cursed power to take down a cursed spirit? I'm serious. When you're with me, you'll see for yourself!"
Itadori patted Sasaki's shoulder and pointed his thumb proudly at himself.
Maybe... just maybe, if it's him, it might really be possible. Sasaki's eyes began to sparkle as she looked at him.
As far as she remembered, one of the Eight Pillars of God had once taken down countless enemies using nothing but raw physical strength. If she was right, it was the Tyrant of Heaven—Fushiguro Shige!
"Itadori, I've got an idea!"
While the two were lost in their secretive scheming, far away on the Shinkansen, a teenage boy stared out the window. It was Fushiguro Megumi, casually browsing on his phone.
The year was 2018.
And quietly, the gears of fate had begun to turn.
---
In the past ten years, the world had changed drastically.
First, the reform of the Jujutsu educational system—spearheaded by Geto Suguru, the Lord of All Spirits, and Gojo Satoru, the Eye of Heaven—had taken root across the country. Dozens of Jujutsu academies had sprung up like mushrooms after the rain.
Even if a school had only three or four students in a year, that was still enough to drastically increase the amount of new talent entering the Jujutsu world. Many promising sorcerers were now emerging from non-sorcerer backgrounds.
At the same time, the Jujutsu world was constantly in upheaval.
After taking over the Bankei Sect, Geto Suguru reformed its doctrine toward purification—declaring war on all impure beings within the Jujutsu world.
Over the decade that followed, dozens of ancient sorcerer families had their sealed gates blown open by the Bankei Sect.
Then came the issue of Cursed Spirits.
A massive surge in cursed energy had drastically increased the number of spirits, impacting public safety and stability. This, in turn, led to a closer relationship between the general populace and Jujutsu sorcerers.
---
In what was once Fukuoka City, nine massive statues towered over the canyon skyline. Their overwhelming presence was breathtaking.
"Everyone, please look! This is the symbol of Seiichi City—The Nine Pillars Monument!"
In honor of the great feats of the God of Jujutsu, the Kyushu government had renamed Fukuoka to James City, and rebuilt a vibrant metropolis on both sides of the canyon. The construction of the statues had been part of that tribute.
"Can anyone tell me who these nine statues represent?" the tour guide asked, leading a group of children and their parents to the monument.
"Me! Me! I know!"
A little girl waved excitedly, and the guide pointed to her.
She began pointing at the statues one by one.
"That's Inumaki Toge!"
She pointed again. A man in traditional kimono, with a calm smile.
"Kamo Katsuhiko!"
Next, a broad-shouldered warrior radiating strength.
"Akira Takekuma!"
Then an elderly gentleman with sharp eyes and a kind face.
"Thank You-sensei!"
A stoic middle-aged man with crossed arms.
"Fushiguro Zen'in!"
A graceful woman with long hair holding a white snake.
"Kyujuku Yuki!"
A smiling youth with messy bangs and narrowed eyes.
"Geto Suguru!"
A man with radiant blue eyes and striking white hair.
"Gojo Satoru!"
Finally, she pointed to the tallest statue in the center. It depicted a lone warrior holding a long blade, his long hair billowing as he gazed into the distance.
"James!"
"Perfect! You've earned a prize!"
The guide handed her a plushie.
The last statue, of course, needed no explanation. Everyone knew who he was.
The God of Jujutsu—James.
In fact, James wasn't the only one with a chuuni nickname. The other eight had earned their share of ridiculous titles too. But in official circles, people refrained from using them.
Gojo Satoru, for instance, was formally known as "The Eye of Heaven."
---
At the back of the tour group, five unusual figures stood, yet no one seemed to notice them.
"Are they really that powerful?" asked a short one-eyed man with a head shaped like a volcano.
"Shouldn't you be asking Nozomi that?" replied a scar-faced youth in ragged clothes, smiling darkly.
These five figures were none other than top-grade Cursed Spirits—Louhu, Zhenren, Huayu, and Tuogen, joined by someone unseen in years...
Nozomi.
Now appearing as an ordinary middle-aged man with black-rimmed glasses, Nozomi still bore the massive crack in his forehead, a chilling sign of what he truly was.
"Whether they're powerful or not..." Nozomi said softly, "Just look at the canyon we passed earlier. Isn't that answer enough?"
The other four went silent.
"...It's hard to imagine a human could do that," whispered Huayu, her tone shaken.
Louhu pondered for a moment, trying to gauge whether his own destructive power could achieve something similar. After a while, he quietly gave up. It wasn't just the sheer length—it was the impossible depth and width. Far beyond his capabilities.
There's a difference between destroying buildings and tearing open the earth itself.
"I'd love to turn someone like that into a cyborg!" Zhenren said, licking his lips in excitement.
Nozomi gave him a side glance. Brainless, but honest.
James could kill someone from ten kilometers away with a single strike. Zhenren wouldn't even get close enough to see the man's shadow.
Then again, he thought, tools don't need brains. The dumber, the better.
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