"Good afternoon, Mrs. Yaga."
The moment he stepped inside, Asou Akiya greeted Yaga Masamichi's wife with perfect politeness.
He slipped off his outdoor shoes, exchanged them for the house slippers provided, and neatly placed his footwear into the shoe cabinet — every movement deliberate yet relaxed, striking an effortless balance between familiarity and impeccable courtesy.
The Japanese set great store by cleanliness.
At the genkan — the entryway — it was often acceptable for family members' shoes to lie scattered in comfortable disarray.
Yaga Masamichi led him further into the house and toward the living room. Yaga's wife prepared tea with practiced grace, receiving her husband's student. Until any talk of adoption had been openly discussed and decided, she could not afford to show even the slightest displeasure; on the contrary, she was expected to embody the thoughtful hospitality of a full-time homemaker and uphold her husband's dignity in front of others.
Asou Akiya moved carefully, every step falling precisely within the boundaries of what Yaga's wife could comfortably accept during this first formal visit to his teacher's home.
Yaga's wife spoke with a touch of unfamiliarity.
"You must be Asou-kun — I hope I have the name right?"
Asou Akiya inclined his head in confirmation and answered the unspoken question behind her polite inquiry.
"I just finished a period of intensive kendo training at a dojo in Kyoto. Yaga-sensei was worried about me traveling back to school alone, so he kindly drove out to pick me up himself.
On the way here I happened to hear that Sensei has been troubled lately by having to tutor a relative — so I took the liberty of volunteering my help. Please don't let my age fool you; after the new term begins I will actually be attending lectures at the University of Tokyo as an auditor."
The almost religious reverence Asians hold for academic achievement is something many people in Europe and America find impossible to fully comprehend.
The clearer one's mind, the higher one stands in society, the more plainly one sees just how crucial a prestigious education truly is.
Happy-go-lucky education? Don't let popular rhetoric deceive you.
Asou Akiya's calm, measured words left Mrs. Yaga visibly startled.
"You were training in kendo over winter break? And you'll be an auditing student at the University of Tokyo?"
Asou Akiya flashed a playful little smile.
"Kendo is purely a personal hobby of mine. My academic record is quite strong — my strongest subjects are world history and the appreciation of foreign literature, while Japanese history happens to be the one area I struggle with most. Among my classmates I have the company of absolute geniuses in the sciences and in medicine; the one with the most well-rounded abilities, though, is actually an athlete — and right now, even during winter break, he's been diligently studying history courses on his own."
Yaga Masamichi's face darkened with faint black lines — yes, exactly. Gojo Satoru was the scientific genius, Ieiri Shoko the medical prodigy, and now even Getou Suguru — the one with the strongest physical technique among them — had somehow been reduced in description to nothing more than an athlete. And because he had once failed a course, he had recently become addicted to catching up on history?
Mrs. Yaga could not follow the finer details of all this; the only word that truly registered with her was "excellent."
This black-haired boy was not only outstanding in his own right — the people around him were exceptional too. Their brilliance only served to highlight, by painful contrast, the level of education Yaga Masamichi had managed to provide.
A quiet shame crept over her. She herself was not a highly educated woman, and so the instinctive admiration she felt toward intellectuals had always been a perfectly natural response.
As they chatted, she gradually came to understand Asou Akiya more deeply, layer by layer.
"You like pandas?" Mrs. Yaga broke into a delighted smile. "I love them too. That's actually how Masamichi and I first met — at Ueno Zoo. He was leaning over the railing, completely entranced while watching the pandas."
Japanese people have an almost universal obsession with pandas.
Asou Akiya had chosen his point of entry with surgical precision, correctly betting that Yaga Masamichi's wife would also be an animal enthusiast.
After a little while Asou Akiya inclined his body forward in a polite half-bow.
"Sensei, may I ask if your relative is here right now? I have some free time at the moment and could start helping him with his studies. Mrs. Yaga , if it gets too late I might need to stay for dinner — I hope that won't be an inconvenience for you."
Yaga's wife naturally had to show proper hospitality.
"Of course it won't be any trouble at all."
Yaga Masamichi nodded.
"Akiya, he's upstairs. I'll go call him down. Thank you for doing this — it's a lot of trouble for you."
Five minutes later Asou Akiya heard two sets of footsteps descending the stairs. He turned his face slightly to the side and quietly appraised the boy he was about to tutor.
A teenager with deep brown hair appeared. He was noticeably short — but not in the exaggerated, mocking way Gojo Satoru might have teased about.
This was the genuine, unexaggerated shortness of an ordinary fourteen-year-old Japanese boy — roughly one hundred and fifty centimeters tall.
Compared to this boy, Asou Akiya felt like an adult in every conceivable way.
The sensation of being the one doing the bullying suddenly stood out even more sharply.
He curved his lips into a gentle smile.
Upstairs in the study, while conducting the tutoring session Asou Akiya had no need to imitate Gojo Satoru's style — that would not be breaking someone's defenses; that would simply be picking a fight.
He opened the English textbook and scanned ten lines at a glance. Then, with a soft, warm, and patient voice he began to explain — and that gentle tone alone was more than enough to plant seeds of inferiority in the mind of Yaga-sensei's distant relative. The sheer volume of knowledge he displayed was the kind that could only be caught up to through countless hours of sweat, blood, and sleepless nights in the years to come.
Asou Akiya did not bother to remember the boy's name, and the boy himself failed to notice this small indifference. Instead he spoke with a trace of resistance in his voice.
"Asou-kun, you're Uncle Yaga's student, right? Which school do you go to? Uncle Yaga doesn't seem to be as good at English as you are."
Asou Akiya smiled lightly.
"Which school I attend isn't important. What matters is your plan for the future."
He continued in an easy, almost leisurely tone.
"You're already fourteen. Next year's entrance exams for high school will be your final sprint. So tell me — in the future, are you aiming for the University of Tokyo, Kyoto University, or Osaka University?"
Asou Akiya went on smoothly.
"I visited Kyoto University not long ago on some business. The students there are under tremendous pressure. Some of them have jumped from buildings."
Asou Akiya tilted his head slightly.
"By comparison, the University of Tokyo seems like the better choice, doesn't it?"
Asou Akiya continued without pause.
"Yaga-sensei has a wide network of connections at the University of Tokyo. Both I and my classmates are currently auditing lectures there. My own dream is to start my own company someday. My classmates dream of becoming doctors. If you manage to get into the University of Tokyo, you'll immediately gain access to all the benefits of that powerful alumni circle. You really have to work hard."
The boy stared in stunned silence for a moment before blurting out on reflex.
"If I could actually get in, would I even need tutoring?"
Asou Akiya replied calmly, without the slightest ripple in his expression.
"The people I know are all exceptionally capable and extremely confident about their futures. You're Yaga-sensei's relative — you were never going to lack educational resources to begin with. So are you planning to just lie down and wait for death?"
"If it were anyone else, I wouldn't bother helping with tutoring at all. You've already been given a massive advantage."
"Don't slack off. Focus and listen."
The boy rolled his eyes dramatically.
"What if I just can't learn it?"
Asou Akiya gave a faint, shallow smile.
"If you can't learn it, then learn it until you bleed. You haven't reached the stage where you need to rely on raw talent yet."
"Back in my day, I only slept four hours a night..."
In this exact moment, there was no better time to bring out the spirit of those legendary high school entrance exam warriors from his previous life — the ones who tied their hair to the ceiling beam to stay awake and stabbed their thighs with an awl whenever they began to doze.
The boy cracked completely.
There has always been an insurmountable wall between ordinary people and sorcerers — just as there has always been an insurmountable wall between academic underachievers and academic overlords.
It is a widely known but bitterly hot piece of truth: the gap between one human being and another can sometimes be far wider than the gap between a human and a dog. Anyone who refuses to face reality head-on will inevitably be crushed beneath it.
The door swung open. Asou Akiya stepped out with easy composure while behind him trailed the tutoring student whose face had turned the color of dead ashes.
That night the four of them sat down to dinner together.
When Yaga Masamichi saw him to the door afterward, Mrs. Yaga pressed a panda plush into Asou Akiya's hands as a parting gift.
"This is an official big panda merchandise item from our home collection."
"Thank you, Mrs. Yaga. I'll place it right on my bedside table — it can keep me company at night alongside Mii-chan that Sensei gave me."
Asou Akiya accepted the gift from his teacher's wife with perfect courtesy. He discreetly channeled a thread of cursed energy into the plush to confirm it was not some kind of defensive cursed corpse in disguise — just in case it suddenly decided to throw him a punch. His cautious little inspection earned him one helpless, long-suffering look from Yaga Masamichi.
On the drive back to school Yaga Masamichi asked how things had gone.
Asou Akiya toyed idly with the panda's limbs as he answered in a careless drawl.
"Dealing with him is simple. Just sign him up for every cram class you can find — pile on the high-intensity tutoring until his mind breaks. His brain literally can't hold any more knowledge without overflowing."
Yaga Masamichi let out a short, surprised laugh.
"That easy?"
Asou Akiya nodded.
"Exactly that easy. When things are pushed to the extreme they inevitably reverse. He won't be able to endure it for long."
Asou Akiya continued after a brief pause.
"Sensei, I'll need your help with Suguru's birthday."
Yaga Masamichi kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He could not help wondering — surely they were not about to drag everyone into another massive mobilization?
As though reading his thoughts, Asou Akiya continued smoothly.
"You know the story of the boy who cried wolf, don't you? Once is forgivable, twice becomes familiar — Suguru won't fall for it so easily this time. The situation needs to be handled a little more delicately. We don't need a crowd. The more people involved, the greater the chance something goes wrong."
Yaga Masamichi exhaled in visible relief.
"Don't go overboard with this. Just tell me — what exactly do you need from me?"
Asou Akiya raised a single finger.
"Wait for my good news."
A sudden chill crept up Yaga Masamichi's spine. He thought to himself, when this birthday finally arrives, will the gift be a genuine surprise or nothing but pure fright?
…
February, 1st.
Getou Suguru's birthday countdown: three days remaining.
Inside the classroom the usual trio gathered as though for a formal meeting. Gojo Satoru paced back and forth with barely contained excitement before suddenly whirling around and fixing them with a mock-threatening glare.
"Last time it was my birthday — the two of you sneaked off to Tokyo Jujutsu High to plot how you were going to mess with me, didn't you?"
Asou Akiya answered without missing a beat.
"No."
Ieiri Shoko flatly refused to entertain the accusation.
"You have Six Eyes, not clairvoyance."
Gojo Satoru's sharp instincts told him both of them were lying through their teeth, but he could not be bothered to press the issue. Instead he slammed his palm down on the table.
"Spit out the script already!"
Asou Akiya calmly handed over two thick stacks of handwritten pages — tens of thousands of words in total.
Gojo Satoru sucked in a sharp breath.
"Hiss!"
Ieiri Shoko echoed him instantly.
"Hiss!"
The two of them collectively drew in cold air, suddenly and viscerally understanding just how terrifying it could be to find oneself the birthday star.
Ieiri Shoko spoke with dead seriousness.
"Next time it's my birthday, just take me straight to a bar, please. I don't want any plot setup at all."
Asou Akiya respected his female classmate's decision without hesitation.
"Fine by me."
Gojo Satoru opened his mouth immediately.
"I also want—"
Asou Akiya turned his gaze toward Gojo Satoru, eyes faintly curved with hidden amusement.
"What did you say? I didn't quite catch that."
Gojo Satoru: "..."
Asou Akiya's tone suddenly cooled.
"Before Suguru's birthday arrives, the two of you still have one more task ahead — hand over my birthday presents! You've been dragging your feet on those drafts for far too long. You're not seriously planning to finish them only after the new term starts, are you?"
And so, in the middle of the discussion meeting for Getou Suguru's birthday celebration, a bizarre scene unfolded.
Gojo Satoru and Ieiri Shoko bent their heads over notebooks and began writing furiously, splitting their attention between scribbling and straining their ears to catch every word of Asou Akiya's script explanation.
"This year's birthday theme is 'High School Reunion Ten Years Later.'"
"Main cast: two people. Gojo Satoru and Ieiri Shoko."
"To make Suguru feel completely immersed, my requirement for the script is that it must be authentic, intense, and logically airtight — so airtight that even when he knows full well everything is staged according to my plan, he will still follow along step by step until he's left doubting his own existence."
"Satoru, your responsibility at the start of February third is to disguise yourself as a curse user, knock Suguru unconscious, and render him completely out of it so we can make him up to look ten years older."
"Shoko, your responsibility at the start of February third is to collect blood and stage a convincing murder scene. The very first thing I want him to see when he wakes up is the horrific sight of his parents brutally killed — and the mission written into his script will be to hunt down the killer."
How thrilling! Suguru opens his birthday by having his parents die!
Gojo Satoru felt every pore on his body open wide in exhilaration, the sheer delight washing over him until his mood balanced out in perfect harmony.
Gojo Satoru asked eagerly, curiosity burning bright.
"Who's the killer?"
Asou Akiya answered without hesitation.
"Himself."
Gojo Satoru practically vibrated with excitement.
"Whoa!! That's genius! Why didn't you give me a script like that?!"
Asou Akiya felt utterly filial piety'd to death by the outburst and waved a hand to shush him.
"Stop interrupting."
Ieiri Shoko's eyes sparkled with rare interest. As someone intimately familiar with corpses she was encountering the novelty of faking a death for the very first time. She raised her hand like a proper student.
"Reporting in, Class Rep — won't this actually scare Suguru to death?"
Asou Akiya replied in the same mock-formal tone.
"Reporting back, female classmate — no, it won't."
Asou Akiya smiled gently.
"Then my primary task is to convince Suguru's parents to join the game and play along."
After sketching out the cause-and-effect chain of the script on the blackboard, Asou Akiya tapped the surface sharply with his knuckles.
"Moving on — there will be no trace of me during the in-script high school reunion scene, so the two of you absolutely cannot slip up and expose anything. My appearance isn't as easy to age up convincingly as yours, so in the script I'm already dead."
"There are three key locations: the Getou family home, the private karaoke box for the reunion, and a secluded private cemetery plot belonging to the Gojo family."
"I need a proper grave with a headstone prepared as a prop. Satoru, make sure someone handles that — pick somewhere remote, nothing overly extravagant. I'll write the epitaph myself. Do not improvise or get creative; I'm worried Suguru might break character and start laughing."
"After the reunion ends, the gift you leave at the grave will be the novels you're currently writing."
"Whoever doesn't finish theirs — even if I have to turn into a Special-Grade cursed spirit I'll come back and hunt you down!"
Asou Akiya's half-serious threat drew bright laughter from both of them.
Japanese people hold no particular fear of graveyards, nor do they harbor much taboo about the living pretending to be dead; instead they brim with rich, vivid fantasies about ghosts and the supernatural.
Asou Akiya thought to himself: My birthday present is the novel you two are writing for me — and in return the birthday present I give you will be this carefully crafted script I've poured my heart into.
A live-action script of such high difficulty and chilling aftertaste — only someone who had read Jujutsu Kaisen could even conceive of it, and only someone who had closely observed these three classmates could possibly write it with such precision. No one else attempting something like this would ever achieve quite the same effect.
——
Suguru — come and try out the new script I've written for you.
Immerse yourself completely.
Tremble to your core.
This is your life — a false existence that I have authored for you.
When every last clue is finally laid out before your eyes, will you be able to accept the truth that you yourself are the murderer?
——
Getou Suguru: Help, I already feel drenched in cold sweat.