Tokyo's late afternoon sunlight spilled through the sushi shop's wide windows, turning the lacquered counter into a sheet of gold. The smell of vinegar rice and seared tuna filled the air. The quiet hum of conversation broke only by the rhythmic shff-shff of knives behind the counter.
At a corner booth sat two figures whose very presence bent the air—one in dark shades and a smug grin, the other calm, unreadable, with eyes that shimmered faintly like galaxies.
Gojo Satoru stirred his miso soup lazily. "Well, this is new. I don't usually share sushi with middle-schoolers glowing with cosmic radiation."
Across from him, Kurotsuki Tenkai blinked. "It's called cursed energy, isn't it? You seem familiar with it."
Gojo tilted his head, grin widening. "Bingo. Name's Gojo Satoru. Teacher, sorcerer, occasional troublemaker, and—" he leaned closer, whispering theatrically, "—the strongest."
Tenkai raised an eyebrow. "So humble."
"Humility's boring. Power's way more fun."
They both reached for a sushi plate at the same time—hands bumping. Awkward silence. Gojo coughed and snatched a salmon nigiri. "So! You're… what, a high-schooler?"
Tenkai nodded, placing a neat piece of tuna on his plate. "First year. Kurotsuki Tenkai. I live in Sakura-machi."
Gojo drummed his fingers on the table, analyzing the boy's composed tone. No hesitation, no nervous ticks. Just poise. "Sakura-machi, huh? Pretty town. Good cherry blossoms. Terrible cursed spirits though."
"Hmm." Tenkai's tone was neutral. "I've never had any… incidents."
"I'll bet they're too scared to come near you," Gojo muttered, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.
For a moment, only the clink of chopsticks filled the air. Then, Gojo's curiosity—inevitable and unstoppable—took over. He leaned forward. "Sooo, kid. What's that gadget you're guarding like it's a national treasure?"
Tenkai followed his gaze to the small rectangle beside his plate—sleek, black, and far too advanced for 2012.
"This?" He wiped a stray rice grain from the screen. "A prototype smartphone."
Gojo blinked. "A what-now?"
Tenkai powered it on, and the screen burst to life with a crisp animation, followed by a smooth, futuristic interface. "Custom OS. AI assistant—Auralis—runs all system tasks. Voice recognition, self-learning algorithm, no internet lag. 64-megapixel back camera, 20 front. Predictive AI scheduling and translation pre-loaded."
Gojo whistled. "You're telling me this… tiny slab can do all that? My phone still thinks I'm a toaster every time I say hello."
Tenkai smiled faintly. "Most phones rely on preset algorithms. This one adapts."
The boy tapped the device, and a holographic projection of Tokyo's skyline shimmered above the table. A digital map rotated smoothly. Gojo's jaw dropped.
"Holy sushi roll… this thing's cooler than cursed tools!" He poked at the projection; it responded with gentle ripples. "Wait, wait. You're saying this isn't from, like, America or some shady lab?"
Tenkai shook his head. "I designed it. My company manufactures it."
Gojo froze mid-poke. "...You're joking."
"No."
The sorcerer's brain briefly short-circuited. He squinted. Then it hit him—the photo he'd seen on a morning news segment, the "youngest CEO in Japan," headlines praising Kurotsuki Industries' genius founder.
Gojo slammed a hand on the table, startling nearby customers. "Wait, YOU'RE that Kurotsuki?! The baby billionaire tech prodigy guy!?"
Tenkai's chopsticks paused mid-air. "…Baby?"
Gojo scratched his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Figure of speech! You just… look… tiny."
Tenkai sighed. "You're remarkably bad at conversation."
"Hey, I'm trying! It's just, you know, not every day I meet a kid who might out-tech heaven itself."
Tenkai smirked. "And not every day I meet a man who radiates enough cursed energy to vaporize a city block."
Gojo laughed. "Touché. Guess we're both anomalies, huh?"
The waiter slid in a fresh platter of sashimi and sake cups (Gojo's idea, naturally). "Alright!" Gojo raised his chopsticks dramatically. "Time for the real topic—food."
He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Have you ever tried mochi filled with strawberry cream? It's the pinnacle of existence."
Tenkai tilted his head. "I'm… currently interested in sushi."
Gojo gasped theatrically. "Sushi over sweets? Blasphemy! You wound me, child!"
"You're too dramatic."
"That's how the ladies remember me," Gojo shot back, earning a chuckle from the next booth.
As they ate, the conversation slid from food to the bizarre world that Gojo inhabited. Between bites of tuna, he gestured animatedly.
"So, in our line of work—jujutsu sorcerers—we deal with cursed energy. Humans leak it, curses form, we exorcise them. It's like cosmic plumbing. The ranks go from Grade 4—weak little exorcists—to Grade 1, and then Special Grade."
Tenkai listened intently, chopsticks idle. "Special Grade meaning?"
Gojo leaned back, smirking. "Meaning: monsters. People who can blow up cities, or make you question reality. I'm one of those, by the way."
"I noticed."
"Modest as ever."
Tenkai wiped his mouth calmly. "So… are you telling me these curses exist everywhere?"
"Yup. Some people sense them, most don't. You, though? You've got enough energy to make them worship you."
The boy's eyes glimmered faintly. "Maybe that's why they don't come near me."
Gojo's grin faltered briefly—then he downed a sake shot. "You know, I like you, kid. You don't freak out. Most people start screaming when they hear 'cursed spirits.'"
"I've seen worse things on the internet," Tenkai said flatly.
Gojo choked on his drink laughing. "Pfft—good one! Man, if Yaga met you, he'd adopt you just to get a quiet student for once."
"Yaga?"
"My boss. Principal at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Cool guy, loves his dogs."
"Dogs?"
"Don't ask."
They ate in relative quiet for a moment, the plates gradually clearing. Then Gojo stood, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket.
"Well, Tenkai-kun," he said lightly, "you've impressed me more than half the sorcerer corps. I've got a job nearby—special grade curse haunting an old subway. You should come watch. Think of it as… a front-row seat to the supernatural."
Tenkai arched an eyebrow. "An invitation from the strongest? That's rare."
Gojo flashed his iconic grin. "Can't help it. You've got that main-character energy."
Tenkai chuckled. "Flattery won't make me pay for lunch."
"Already paid!" Gojo announced cheerfully, tossing bills on the counter. "Let's go, sushi scientist. Time to show you how the world really works."
As they stepped outside, the city buzzed softly under evening lights. Gojo's music still played faintly from his earphones, a carefree rhythm clashing with the weight of what awaited underground.
Tenkai slipped his phone into his pocket, Aion's voice murmuring quietly, "Warning: energy anomaly detected two kilometers east."
He smiled. "Looks like your curse problem is already calling."
Gojo grinned, adjusting his dark shades. "Then let's answer it, shall we?"
The two walked into the neon-lit dusk—one humming along to his playlist, the other already calculating a thousand future possibilities.
And somewhere deep beneath Tokyo, something stirred.