Chapter 4
The next day…
Kuro woke with the first rays of sunlight spilling through the window.
He yawned, stretched… and lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. His body was relaxed, but his mind lingered in a warm corner of the night before.
> "Such memories…"
He remembered playing with his cousins.
The Budokai Tenkaichi 3 tournaments, the endless fights over who got to use SSJ4 Goku first, the shouting, the laughter…
The childhood he once had. The one he lost.
—Goodbye… Dragon Ball Z Budokai Tenkaichi 3, he murmured with a melancholic smile. The best game in history.
But now, reality was different.
He rose, changed clothes, and stepped into the hallway, already knowing that this morning… training awaited.
---
Later, at the training grounds.
—Alright, kids! Gojo exclaimed, appearing with his toothpaste-commercial smile.
Today: a theory class on cursed energy. Pay attention—this one doesn't come with a YouTube summary.
Megumi, serious.
Kuro, attentive.
Tsumiki… sitting to the side with a notebook, even if she couldn't see what they saw.
Gojo paced in circles like a teacher giving an improvised lecture.
—First, the basics: where does cursed energy come from?
He paused dramatically.
—From bad thoughts. Negative emotions. Pain. Anger.
Everything we normally repress… here, it becomes power.
Kuro absorbed every word in silence. It made sense. That was why his power vibrated so strongly with his memories. With his death. With his guilt.
Gojo raised a hand.
—Examples: losing someone you love, living through tragedy, craving revenge… or simply wanting to kill someone.
Tsumiki raised her hand.
—And what if someone is naturally very peaceful?
Gojo smiled.
—Then they probably can't even throw a pebble of cursed energy.
Megumi sighed.
—What about production?
—Ah! Good question, dear Megumi.
Gojo pulled out a makeshift notebook and drew two circles.
—Look here: imagine your cursed energy reserve as having 100 dollars in the bank. That's your total capacity.
—Now, production is how much you can actively use—that is, how much you can withdraw in a fight.
—Some sorcerers have a thousand dollars in reserve… but can only pull out fifty. Others have two hundred… but can use it all, quickly and precisely.
Kuro lifted his gaze.
—So… it's not just about how much energy you have, but how you use it.
Gojo winked.
—Exactly, little sage. Having plenty is useless if you can't move it when you need to.
Kuro closed his eyes for a moment.
His mind drifted back to his memories.
The tournaments with his cousins. His past life.
And he thought: "I've had enough negative emotions to level a city. What I need now… is control."
Gojo patted his shoulder.
—Ready to put that into practice, Kuro?
Kuro smiled.
—Always.
---
"Knowing how much you have is useless… if you don't learn to move it."
---
The training grounds were prepared.
A wide area, with marked circles on the ground, wooden targets, curse-reinforced dummies, and… a mountain of empty cans.
—Seriously, Gojo? Megumi asked, arms crossed.
—Of course! said the strongest sorcerer, grinning ear to ear. This is Japan's number-one training method. It's called 'Cursing with Purpose'!
Kuro raised a brow.
—Does that actually exist, or did you just make it up?
—Both, Gojo said, pulling out a box of gloves, bandages, and chalk.
Tsumiki watched from a nearby bench, jotting notes diligently, even if she couldn't perceive the energy herself.
Gojo turned and pointed to the tower of cans.
—Exercise: Precision. Each of you will concentrate cursed energy into a single finger… and try to topple those cans with a single touch.
No blowing things up, understood?
Megumi went first.
He breathed, focused energy into his index finger…
Wham!
The cans fell. A bit messy, but effective.
Gojo nodded.
—Eight out of ten. Well done.
Kuro inhaled deeply.
He felt the energy inside him.
His shadow stirred faintly behind his back. The Cursed Eye flickered, but didn't awaken.
He gathered the energy in his hand…
Touched the cans.
Nothing.
A faint metallic clink.
Gojo said nothing at first.
Kuro lowered his arm.
—What happened?
—You're trying to move the reserve… not the production, Gojo explained, crouching before him. You've got plenty of power, but you're trying to release it all like a river.
You need to learn to turn the faucet little by little, not open the dam at once.
Kuro frowned, clenched his fist, tried again.
—Think of a memory. Something yours. Something real.
But channel it. Don't unleash it all.
Kuro closed his eyes.
He thought of his death. Of how he lost his former life.
Of Tsumiki in the hospital…
Of never wanting to feel that pain again.
He extended his finger.
The cursed energy vibrated. Small. Precise.
CLACK!
The cans toppled—perfectly aligned.
Tsumiki clapped.
—That was amazing!
Gojo smiled.
—That was efficient production. You're improving, Kuro.
Kuro breathed deeply. His shadow shifted faintly beneath his feet, as if it recognized the progress.
—What's next?
Gojo turned and pointed at a training dummy shaped like a cursed teddy bear.
—Exercise 2: Continuous control.
You're going to strike it five times, and every blow must carry the exact same intensity of cursed energy.
Kuro swallowed.
—That's going to be hard…
—Which is why you'll do it.
---
"Having power isn't the hard part. Using it well… that is."
---
The midday sun beat down on the training grounds.
Kuro stood before the target: a practice dummy shaped like a cursed bear, reinforced with protective energy to withstand blows.
At his side, Gojo watched from the shade of a tree, wearing his usual "this'll be fun" look.
—Five hits, he said. All with the exact same amount of cursed energy.
No more, no less.
Show me you're not just strong… but precise.
Kuro inhaled deeply.
He remembered the morning's lesson:
> "The reserve is what you have. Production is what you can use."
And now, he had to prove he could control the production.
First strike.
He charged energy into his fist. Hit.
Thump!
The dummy shook.
Gojo nodded.
—Good.
Second strike.
Kuro tried to repeat the process exactly.
Thump…!
Slightly stronger. The sound sharper.
—Small imbalance, Gojo commented. You're forcing more emotion than energy.
Kuro scowled.
Third strike.
He tried to calm down. Breathe. Visualize the same charge.
Thump.
This time weaker.
—Now you're holding back too much, Gojo said. You're thinking more than you're feeling.
Fourth strike.
Kuro clenched his teeth. He wanted to get it right.
Too much.
CRACK!
The dummy staggered back.
Far too strong.
Gojo sighed.
—When you get frustrated, your production spikes. Normal for sorcerers with big reserves.
Your shadow is too tied to your emotions.
Kuro lowered his arm.
—I'm sorry.
—Don't apologize, Gojo said, serious for once.
Failing here, now, is better than failing out there.
Give it the fifth strike. Don't think.
Remember why you're training.
Kuro shut his eyes.
> Tsumiki. Megumi. Preventing the future.
He felt the energy flow—not like fire, but like water.
Neither contained nor forced.
Thump!
A perfect strike. Exact.
Gojo smiled.
—That was the first one that wasn't just a hit.
It was a choice.
Kuro lowered his arm. His breathing steadied.
The shadow beneath his feet moved on its own.
It stretched a few centimeters… and trembled.
Not aggressive. Alive.
Kuro said nothing.
But inside… he smiled.