The gate creaked as I stepped through, the wood worn yet polished from countless years of use. Beyond it stretched the grounds of Tokyo Jujutsu High, and for a moment I slowed my pace, letting the air of the place sink into me.
The atmosphere shifted, yes—but not in a suffocating way. It wasn't a crushing pressure, more like a subtle difference in temperature, a gentle current that marked this place as separate from the world outside. I noticed it immediately, though I didn't flinch.
"There's some kind of barrier here, right?" I asked, glancing at Gojo.
He smiled faintly. "Sharp. Most wouldn't notice unless they studied it. You're right—it's the work of Master Tengen."
The name meant nothing to me, but his tone carried respect. "Tengen?"
"An immortal being," Gojo explained casually. "Been around for about a thousand years. Maintains barriers like this one to keep the school safe and… hidden."
I nodded slowly. "A thousand years…" I let the thought roll over me, but didn't dwell on it too much. After everything I'd seen so far, learning that someone had lived that long was just another piece of this strange new world.
We walked further inside.
The school itself was beautiful in a way that was difficult to describe. The buildings kept a traditional style—sloped tiled roofs, wooden walkways, wide paper-paneled doors. Old stone lanterns lined the paths, and the occasional torii gate arched above. But everything was meticulously cared for, blending history with quiet strength.
Around us, life went on. A pair of sorcerers walked past discussing something about a mission report. Another stood in a training yard, carefully reinforcing a ward with strands of cursed energy that glimmered faintly in the sunlight. There was no laughter or chaos like you'd expect from normal students, but the grounds weren't lifeless either. Calm, purposeful, alive in a quieter way.
It felt… secure. Like a place where you could breathe even while knowing danger existed outside its walls.
Soon, we reached the largest building—a tall hall with wide doors and steps that gave it the aura of both a temple and a place of command. Gojo slid the door open and motioned for me to enter.
Inside sat a man I had only heard of in passing: Principal Masamichi Yaga.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a trimmed beard and dark glasses, his posture commanding but not hostile. Papers and models of puppet-like figures were scattered across his desk, but he pushed them aside as his attention fixed on me.
"Arata Kurogane," he said, his deep voice filling the room without force. "Welcome."
I bowed respectfully. "Thank you for receiving me, Principal."
Yaga gestured toward a seat, and I took it. The silence that followed wasn't sharp—it was more like he was measuring me, not to test or intimidate, but to understand.
When he finally spoke, his tone carried weight but also recognition. "Gojo has spoken of you. He believes you hold the potential of a special grade sorcerer. From what I've seen in his report, he isn't exaggerating."
I stayed quiet, listening.
"You're young," Yaga continued, "but strength at your level makes you more than just another student. Here, you will learn as all sorcerers do—but your path will not be the same as theirs. That is the burden of being special grade. Do you understand this?"
I nodded. "I do. And I accept it."
His gaze softened slightly. "Then tell me—what guides you forward? For sorcerers, every battle carries the risk of death. For someone like you, that risk is greater. What gives you the resolve to stand in this world?"
I met his eyes, answering with respect but without hesitation. "My parents are gone. What's left to me is this power, something I didn't choose but can't ignore. I can either waste it, pretend I'm normal… or use it to walk this path and reach its peak. If the condition is that death may take me along the way, then I'll embrace it when it comes. Better to fall striving forward than to sit still."
The room was quiet after that. Not uncomfortable—simply weighted.
Then Yaga gave a small, approving nod. "Spoken clearly. You understand the weight of your choices, and that is enough for now."
Gojo chuckled lightly. "See? I told you he wasn't like the others."
Yaga ignored him and focused on me again. "You are new to this world, Arata, but you stand already as an unusual case. Do not think of yourself only as a student. You are a sorcerer, and your responsibility is to this balance we protect. That said…" His tone shifted, just slightly warmer. "This school will be your foundation. Treat it as home, if you can."
I bowed my head again. "I will."
For a moment, Yaga seemed satisfied. Then he leaned back, picking up one of his puppet models absentmindedly. "Gojo. See to it that he's settled."
Gojo grinned. "Gladly."
As we stepped back into the hall, I let out a slow breath. That had been less of an interrogation than I expected—it had been more like a conversation with someone who recognized me, even if only at the beginning of my path.
Gojo slapped my shoulder. "Not bad. You didn't freeze up. Yaga doesn't hand out approval often."
"He wasn't unkind," I said simply.
Gojo smirked. "That's his way of being kind."
We walked again through the grounds, this time toward the residential area. I glanced around once more—at the courtyards, the wards being reinforced, the sorcerers quietly tending to duties. It was peaceful here, yet alive with purpose.
For the first time since stepping into this new life, I felt a faint sense of belonging.