The first breath was an agony of sensation. After the warm, muffled darkness of the womb, the sudden shock of cold air, bright light, and a cacophony of sound was a physical assault. Ryouta's newborn lungs, which had never known anything but amniotic fluid, burned with the intake of oxygen, and he joined his brother in a wail that was less a cry of life and more a protest against the violent intrusion of reality.
But for him, the sensory overload was infinitely worse.
The moment his eyelids fluttered open, the world didn't just appear—it unfolded. His Primordial Six Eyes, the 10x amplified variant of the Gojo clan's legendary trait, didn't just see; they perceived. It was a deluge of information so vast and complex that his adult mind, trapped in an infant's brain, struggled to process the torrent.
He didn't just see the doctor holding him; he perceived the man's lingering exhaustion from a 24-hour shift, the faint residue of cursed energy from a minor curse he'd encountered on his way to the hospital, and the genuine, professional relief at a successful delivery. He saw his mother on the delivery bed, not just as a tired woman, but as a maelstrom of overwhelming love, bone-deep weariness, and a fierce, primal protectiveness that shone with the brilliance of a small sun.
His father, standing beside her, was a beacon of pride, his energy signature a mix of elation and the heavy, ancestral weight of the Gojo name settling upon his newborn sons. It was all too much. The colors, the sounds, the emotions, the spiritual residue clinging to every surface—it was a world painted in a billion more colors than he had ever known, and his mind reeled from the sheer, unfiltered volume of it all. He shut his eyes, the reflexive action of a consciousness trying to stem the flood, his cries turning into whimpers of pure sensory overload.
"He's so quiet now," his mother's voice, exhausted but melodic, cut through the chaos. "Look at his eyes, Hayato. They're... different."
Ryouta forced his eyes open again, trying to focus, to filter, to make sense of the tidal wave of perception. His gaze landed on the small bundle held in another nurse's arms. Satoru.
Seeing his brother was another revelation. To the others in the room, Satoru was a baby with startlingly bright blue eyes. To Ryouta's Primordial Six Eyes, he was a star being born. He could perceive the standard Six Eyes in their nascent form, a supercomputer of visual information already beginning to process the world with inhuman speed. He saw the Limitless technique, not as a developed ability, but as a dormant seed of infinite potential woven into Satoru's very soul, a mathematical certainty waiting to unfold. Satoru's energy was chaotic, brilliant, and pure—a supernova in infant form.
"They're silver," his father murmured, his voice tight with a confusion that Ryouta could feel as a discordant note in his energy. "Like spun moonlight. And... gold?"
A nurse gently cleaned Ryouta's face, and for a moment, he caught his own reflection in a polished metal instrument. Where Satoru's eyes were the vibrant, impossible blue of a clear sky, his were a mesmerizing vortex of silver and gold, swirling with pinpricks of light like a captured nebula. They held an ancient quality, a depth that seemed utterly alien in the face of a newborn. It was the first and most obvious sign that he was something other, something that did not fit the known patterns of their bloodline.
This was the power he had been given. Not just to see, but to understand. To perceive the truth behind the veil of reality. And in that moment, Ryouta understood his first and most important task: he had to learn to pretend he was blind.
The first few months of his new life were a lesson in excruciating boredom and intense, secret training. While his infant body slept, ate, and performed its biological functions with frustrating regularity, his adult mind, his transmigrated soul, was wide awake, observing, analyzing, and adapting. He learned to control the overwhelming input from his Primoridal Six Eyes, creating mental filters that allowed him to see the world in a way that wouldn't drive him mad. He learned to dial down his perception from "cosmic understanding" to something approaching "normal," a skill that took weeks of silent, focused meditation while his parents thought he was merely a quiet, peaceful baby.
His greatest teachers were the "normal" people around him. He used his All-Perceiving Eyes to study the energy signatures of the maids, the gardeners, the clan officials who came to visit. He learned what a "calm" emotional state looked like, how a "normal" spiritual presence felt. He built a library of baselines in his mind, a catalogue of normalcy that he could use to calibrate his own concealment.
The bond with Satoru deepened in these early days, in ways no one else could comprehend. When they were placed in separate cribs, Ryouta could perceive his brother's energy signature fray at the edges with a loneliness he was too young to name. When they were brought together, he could feel Satoru's simple, uncomplicated joy as a warmth that resonated between them.
One night, Satoru was inconsolable, crying from a colic that no amount of rocking or soothing from their mother could quell. His distress was a sharp, frantic spike of energy in the quiet house. Lying in his own crib, Ryouta focused his will. He remembered the feeling of the warm darkness of the womb, the sense of absolute peace and safety. He reached out with his own cursed energy, not as a technique, but as a feeling, a concept. He tried to project the idea of "calm."
It was then that the system appeared for the first time since his birth.
The black-golden panel materialized in his vision, elegant and otherworldly, its presence a silent secret in the dimly lit nursery.
╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
║ ◇ PRIMORDIAL SYSTEM ◇
║
║ [TECHNIQUE LEARNED: Cursed Energy Circulation - Basic]
║ [CURRENT MASTERY LEVEL: BEGINNER]
║
║ [CURRENT ABILITY:
║ You can consciously circulate cursed energy through your
║ body. At Beginner level, this process is inefficient and
║ unstable, with significant energy leakage and poor
║ control. It provides minor physical enhancement but is
║ difficult to sustain and requires immense concentration.
║ Your understanding is purely instinctual. ]
║
║ [10X PRIMORDIAL AMPLIFICATION AVAILABLE]
║
║ AMPLIFIED FORM: "PRIMORDIAL FLOW WEAVING"
║ [MASTERY LEVEL UPON AMPLIFICATION: TRANSCENDENCE]
║
║ Primordial Flow Weaving transforms your control over
║ cursed energy into a conceptual authority over the
║ fundamental forces that give rise to it. Rather than
║ simply moving energy, you will weave the very fabric of
║ spiritual power, achieving perfect efficiency with zero
║ leakage. At Transcendence level, this technique becomes
v a passive state of being, requiring no conscious thought.
║ You will be able to project your emotional state through
║ your energy, creating auras that can influence the
║ environment and other beings on a conceptual level,
║ inducing feelings of calm, fear, or authority without
║ any visible technique.
║
║ ► YES - Transform to "Primordial Flow Weaving" forever
║ ► NO - Continue developing standard circulation
╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════
Ryouta felt a thrill of excitement. This was it. The first real choice. The first step on the path he had chosen for himself. His philosophy, formed in the void between lives, was simple: Always say yes to power. The trick isn't refusing strength, it's mastering concealment.
This amplification was perfect. A passive, conceptual ability that would be nearly impossible to detect, yet would form the foundation of everything he would later build. It would enhance his control, his efficiency, and his ability to hide his true nature.
His will focused on the golden letters. YES.
[CHOICE SELECTED: YES]
╔════════════════════════════════════════════════
║ ◇ AMPLIFICATION COMPLETE ◇
║
║ [TECHNIQUE TRANSFORMED: PRIMORDIAL FLOW WEAVING]
║
║ ENHANCEMENT SUCCESSFUL:
║ ✓ Conceptual control over spiritual power unlocked
║ ✓ Perfect energy efficiency achieved
║ ✓ Passive state of being integrated
║ ✓ Emotional aura projection enabled
║
║ [TECHNIQUE PERMANENTLY ENHANCED]
║ [NO FURTHER AMPLIFICATION POSSIBLE FOR THIS ABILITY]
╚════════════════════════════════════════════════
The system panel faded, and Ryouta felt the change instantly. The clumsy, instinctual circulation of his cursed energy became a smooth, silent, perfectly efficient river of power flowing through his enhanced spiritual pathways. It felt as natural as breathing.
He returned his focus to his crying brother. This time, when he projected the concept of "calm," it wasn't a fumbling attempt. It was a tangible aura of peace that flowed from him, a conceptual blanket of tranquility that settled over Satoru's crib. He didn't just project the feeling; he wove a reality where "calm" was the dominant state of being.
Across the room, Satoru's frantic cries softened, then subsided into hiccups, and finally, into the quiet, even breathing of deep sleep.
His mother, who had been on the verge of exhausted tears herself, sighed in relief, assuming the colic had finally passed. She would never know that the peace in the nursery had been authored by her other, silent son.
Ryouta lay in his crib, feeling the Primordial Flow Weaving humming within him. This was the key. This was how he would do it. He would accumulate unimaginable power, one irreversible choice at a time, and he would bury it so deep beneath a mask of normalcy that no one would ever suspect the monster lurking in the shadow of the strongest.
His Primordial Six Eyes swept across the room, perceiving the world with a clarity that was both a gift and a curse. He saw the faint lines of jujutsu protection woven into the walls of the estate, the residual energy of the Gojo ancestors, the vibrant life force of the sleeping groundskeepers in the staff quarters. He saw the future, not as a clear path, but as a web of branching possibilities, a story he had read but could now potentially rewrite.
He looked at Satoru, at the brother who would one day stand at the pinnacle of the jujutsu world, and a silent vow formed in the depths of his soul. I will protect you, he promised. I will be your shadow, your hidden shield. I will let you be the hero, the symbol, the light. And I will deal with the darkness so you don't have to.
The weight of that promise was immense, but it didn't feel like a burden. It felt like a purpose. In his first life, Alex Chen had been a lonely programmer who escaped into stories. In this life, Ryouta Gojo would be the hidden author of his own, ensuring that this story, at least, had a better ending.
He closed his silver-gold eyes, the swirling starlight within them quieting as he began his real training: the art of appearing ordinary. He suppressed his primordial energy signature, using his All-Perceiving Eyes as a guide. He flattened his spiritual presence, making it feel deep but not boundless, gifted but not divine. He became a placid lake, hiding the infinite ocean beneath.
Outside, the moon cast long shadows across the Gojo estate. The world was full of curses to be fought, battles to be won, and tragedies waiting to happen. But in the quiet nursery, a different kind of power was taking root—a power based not on public strength, but on secret, absolute authority, wielded by the boy who would become the strongest shadow the world would never know.