"They're probably digging through my files right now, huh?" Sulien Daelan muttered, flopping onto the small sofa in his suburban rental. After a day of surreal events, exhaustion weighed on him like a lead blanket.
Yaga's blunt probing and Shino's warm explanations laced with quiet suspicion hadn't gone unnoticed. Sulien wasn't an idiot—he'd caught their wariness. Yaga had mentioned Satoru Gojo's recent birth, and Sulien's sudden appearance screamed coincidence too convenient to trust. But let them dig. As the Gojo clan head and Jujutsu High's director, Shino and Yaga had access to intelligence networks that could unearth dirt on rare cursed spirits, let alone a nobody like Sulien, whose life was an open book from birth.
He stretched, joints popping with a satisfying crack. The stench of sweat and cursed spirit muck clung to him. Time for a bath.
In the compact but functional bathroom, Sulien turned on the tub's faucet, letting water thunder into the basin. He stepped to the mirror above the sink, studying his reflection. Short jet black hair, warm gray eyes, black-rimmed glasses—a gentle, scholarly face. Not quite Aizen, but damn close. "I'm practically Aizen's twin!" he chuckled, striking a pose.
As he admired himself, crimson pinpoints flickered in the mirror, forming chilling words: We await your performance!
"Holy shit!" Sulien yelped, jumping back, heart hammering. He blinked hard, but the lights were gone, the mirror empty. Hallucination? No way. Those crimson dots matched the system space exactly. If they were fake, so was his transmigration, the Aizen card, all of it. But the power thrumming in his veins was real.
Regaining his composure, Sulien's mind raced. No wonder it was called the Destined Villain Acting System. Those crimson lights weren't just digital pixels—they were eyes, countless mocking gazes, like sadistic overlords perched in a coliseum, watching a caged beast perform for their amusement.
Gripping the sink, his breathing ragged, Sulien glanced around the tiny bathroom, feeling invisible eyes boring into him. It was like living in The Truman Show. But as fear gave way to resolve, his gaze hardened. If the system's masters wanted a show, he'd deliver one so spectacular they'd never forget it—a performance to make them cheer and choke on their own arrogance.
In the system space, hidden in darkness, the crimson lights morphed. Mouths sprouted, twisted smiles flashing sharp teeth, and voices echoed. "Sōsuke Aizen. It's been ages since someone drew that card."
"Hah! This'll be fun to watch."
---
A week later, Sulien stepped off a rusty bus at the foot of a remote mountain, the brakes screeching painfully. Tokyo Jujutsu High loomed above, nestled in the wilderness. Masamichi Yaga, only two years into his teaching role in this timeline, waited to greet him.
"Welcome to Tokyo Jujutsu High, Sulien Daelan," Yaga said, his tone polite but guarded.
Sulien glanced around, taking in the desolate surroundings. "A school in the middle of nowhere? Really?"
Yaga shrugged. "It's a place for training curse exterminators. A bustling city wouldn't do."
"Makes sense," Sulien conceded, nodding. Then, casually, "Where are the other new students?"
Yaga's mouth twitched, a strained smile forming. Jujutsu High wasn't like normal schools, with hundreds of students per year. Awakening cursed energy was rare, and surviving three years of training to graduate as a sorcerer? Rarer still. Most years, only a handful enrolled—three to five at most. "Recruitment's been… tough," Yaga admitted. "So far, you're the only one."
Sulien blinked. The only one? "Well, damn. Guess I'm the star pupil. Industry expert by graduation!" But inwardly, he groaned. A whole class's workload dumped on him alone? This is just transmigration's version of a 996 grind.
A system prompt chimed in his mind: Excitement +1+1… Anticipation +1+1…
Sulien's eyes narrowed. So that's why I'm the only student. The damn system's not even pretending to be subtle.
"What about Shino Gojo?" Sulien asked, keeping his tone light. "Isn't he a teacher here?"
Yaga, leading the way, glanced back. "Shino's a special advisor, mainly handling combat training. He'd normally meet new students, but he's off on a curse-exorcism mission in Hokkaido."
Sulien nodded, filing the info away. They passed through a corridor of ancient torii gates, arriving at a grand entrance inscribed with bold characters: Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.
"There are only two jujutsu schools in Japan," Yaga explained. "This one in Tokyo and another in Kyoto, due to the scarcity of sorcerers." He gave Sulien a rundown of the school and the jujutsu world as they completed the standard enrollment process: class assignment, textbook pickup, the works. It was so mundane, it could've been any college—except for the subject matter.
THUD! Sulien dumped a stack of textbooks half his height onto a desk. Cursed Spirit Compendium, Jujutsu Basics, Complete Guide to Cursed Objects, Cursed Energy: From Novice to Master, Techniques and Awakening Tips… the titles alone screamed "not your average curriculum."
Before he could sit, Yaga spoke up. "A sorcerer needs a reliable cursed tool. Next, we'll head to the armory to pick one out."
Normally, Yaga would grill new students on their reasons for joining, nudging them toward noble answers like "to vanquish curses and protect the world." But with only one recruit this year, he wasn't about to risk scaring Sulien off with bureaucratic nonsense.
They crossed the campus to the armory. "The armory is backed by the jujutsu world's three great families—Gojo, Kamo, and Zen'in," Yaga said. "Most tools here are public property, but students can register to use them long-term. Shino's the current Gojo clan head, by the way. You'll learn more about the families later."
Yaga swung open the armory's heavy doors, stepping aside. "Go pick a cursed tool you like."
Sulien bowed slightly. "Thanks." Inside, an array of weapons gleamed—axes, spears, swords, staves, you name it. Most were low-grade, with only a few first-grade tools and no ultra-rare special-grade ones. Not that Sulien cared. Tucked in his system inventory was Kyōka Suigetsu. No cursed tool could compete.
He grabbed a samurai sword, its design close enough to his Zanpakutō for a seamless swap later. Yaga frowned. "That one? It's just a fourth-grade tool, pretty mediocre. I'd recommend Waterbreaker over there—a second-grade tool, much better quality and power."
Sulien shook his head, casual but firm. "Nah, this'll do."