February 10th—Tokyo Jujutsu High reopened for the new term, and the first-years officially advanced to second-year students.
Compared to last year, Ieiri Shoko had not changed much. Gojo Satoru advanced from Grade 1 sorcerer to Semi–Special Grade sorcerer. Getou Suguru rose from Grade 2 sorcerer to Semi–Special Grade sorcerer. Asou Akiya advanced from Grade 4 sorcerer to Semi–Grade 2 sorcerer.
Every one of them possessed a bright future.
That was, of course, on the premise that they did not stir up trouble, skip classes, or start fights—otherwise they would be disciplined by Yaga Masamichi's iron fist.
"This year, I don't have many demands for you," Yaga Masamichi said from behind the podium. "You are no longer ignorant children. Handle your personal matters properly. And if you run into trouble, coming to me for help is nothing to be ashamed of."
Yaga Masamichi believed there was only so much he could teach in terms of technique. What he truly imparted to his students was an attitude—a sense of responsibility.
"Treat every assistant supervisor kindly. They are your logistical support."
"We are companions."
"Those who fight on the front lines have it hard. Those who wait in the rear are not simply reaping benefits either—especially Shoko."
"Everyone at Tokyo Jujutsu High should stand united, just like the four of you."
Below the podium, the desks and chairs were arranged in a neat row. The four students listened attentively to their homeroom teacher's opening address.
In the new semester, seated from left to right were Ieiri Shoko, Asou Akiya, Getou Suguru, and Gojo Satoru. Each of them had matured in appearance; the atmosphere among them was harmonious. Without realizing it, they had shed the identity of freshmen and left their own names within the jujutsu world.
"Your juniors are expected to enroll on April 1st this year. At present, there are two confirmed students. It is not impossible that there will be one more."
"Akiya, when the time comes, you will accompany me to receive the new students."
"Next, the first period will be self-study. Adjust your mindset. If you want to read, read. If you want to use your phone, use it. But let me remind you of one thing—winter vacation is over. As sorcerers, it is time for you to tighten your nerves again."
After Yaga Masamichi finished speaking, Asou Akiya took the lead in applauding. The other three followed immediately, and applause echoed throughout the classroom.
"Do your best," Yaga Masamichi said with a smile.
He then called each of them by name, one by one, no longer addressing his adorable yet mischievous students by their surnames alone.
"Shoko. Akiya. Suguru. Satoru. You are the finest."
Such warm words.
Yaga Masamichi had once believed he would be too embarrassed to utter such things in his lifetime. Yet under Asou Akiya's influence, he had learned to offer praise.
His students needed encouragement—whether they were strong or weak.
Afterward, Yaga Masamichi left the classroom to the four of them. He slid open the door and stepped out. Before long, cheers erupted inside the room. The students celebrated their teacher's departure, delighted that they could once again chat as freely as they pleased.
The first period passed amid laughter and ease.
During the second period, an assistant supervisor who had drawn the unlucky lot to teach adjusted his tie and walked in with visible resignation.
"Quiet! Class is starting."
Sorcerers possessed a wealth of theoretical knowledge, and Tokyo Jujutsu High advocated for free growth, refraining from interfering with each student's chosen path for the future. What had caused the jujutsu world to decline from prosperity to stagnation was not a lack of knowledge, but a shortage of combat power—the priceless experience of applying knowledge to real battle.
One of the problem students, Gojo Satoru, no longer propped his feet up on the desk. He adopted the proper posture expected of a student.
Another thorny student, Getou Suguru, spread open his notebook, picked up his pen, and prepared to take notes during the lecture.
The assistant supervisor nearly wept with joy. Someone had truly reformed!
Meanwhile, Yaga Masamichi paid a second visit to the Zen'in clan. This time, it was not as formal as the first. He wore the Tokyo Jujutsu High teacher's uniform with pride and no longer regarded Zen'in Naoya as someone who required particular caution.
The meeting was not held in the courtyard this time, but indoors. A maid served tea and refreshments as she received him.
Yaga Masamichi waited for about ten minutes before Zen'in Naoya finally arrived—late, but with his hostility noticeably restrained.
Zen'in Naoya spoke first. "Do you know where Satoru-kun is?"
From the clan meeting on January 3rd until now, Zen'in Naoya had been constantly searching for an opportunity to see Gojo Satoru in person, or at the very least deliver him a letter. He had failed every time. It was often said that perseverance pays off, yet the Gojo Clan had managed to guard Gojo Satoru so tightly that not even a single fly from the outside world could slip through.
Yaga Masamichi answered in an official tone. "School started today. He's attending classes. As for anything before today, I'm not aware."
Joy flickered across Zen'in Naoya's face. Satoru-kun had appeared! Beneath his sleeve, his hand clenched into a fist before he slowly forced it to relax.
"Could you take me to see him?"
"No."
Yaga Masamichi would never presume to make that decision. Everyone at the school knew how foul Gojo's temper could be.
"Satoru-kun would be willing to see me," Zen'in Naoya insisted anxiously. "The Gojo clan has misunderstood my feelings toward him and has obstructed me at every turn. I swear I harbor no improper thoughts toward him. I simply regard him as the undisputed genius of the jujutsu world!"
Yaga Masamichi: "..."
So you do realize your behavior can be misunderstood?
"Zen'in heir," Yaga Masamichi said evenly, "did you request this meeting merely to express your admiration for Gojo?"
Zen'in Naoya blurted out without thinking, "I also want to know whether he met my cousin when they were children—"
He cut himself off.
The gossip circulating outside about the Three Great Clans might very well be something the parties involved were not even aware of.
He thought as much, yet Yaga Masamichi responded calmly, "Ah, that matter? I know about it. He did meet him."
Zen'in Naoya instantly became agitated. "Please, I beg you—ask Satoru-kun to help prove that my cousin's defection had nothing to do with him. It was entirely my cousin's own will! My cousin is the most bold and capable man in the entire Zen'in clan!"
Yaga Masamichi poured cold water over his plea. "I'm sorry, but that's beyond my ability. You'll have to discuss it with Gojo directly."
Zen'in Naoya wilted at once. If he could meet the man, would he have gone to such lengths in the first place?
Satoru-kun, what are you—a cloistered noble lady from ancient times?
I've been trying so hard and yet I can't even manage to get in touch with you!
Then Zen'in Naoya reconsidered. The man before him was Gojo Satoru's teacher… If that was the case, then a visit to the school was unavoidable.
"Yaga-sensei." Zen'in Naoya was capable of both persistence and restraint; when necessary, he could perform courtesy flawlessly.
"I would like to visit Tokyo Jujutsu High and have a look around. Would you be willing to show me the way?" His fox-like eyes curved with a smile. After regaining his composure, he no longer brought up the matter between Gojo Satoru and his cousin. "I have, to some extent, developed the thought of enrolling. I hope Yaga-sensei will not hold my previous discourtesy against me and will grant me a chance to improve your impression of me."
"You may," Yaga Masamichi replied. He could not be swayed by either force or flattery, yet he agreed to Zen'in Naoya's proper request.
Several hours later.
At Tokyo Jujutsu High, classes were still in session, and a visitor arrived at the boys' dormitory.
Zen'in Naoya surveyed the place with a critical eye—the wooden flooring, the patches of mold in the corners of the walls, the shared lounge area with its seating and vending machines. Those had been added this year, benefits Yaga Masamichi had secured for the students.
Even so, Zen'in Naoya found it far too crude.
Until his objective was achieved, he had learned to keep certain thoughts to himself. With measured composure, he asked, "Who is Asou?"
He pointed to the nameplate hanging on the first dorm room along the corridor after the entrance.
Yaga Masamichi explained, "A second-year student. Asou Akiya. He's in the same class as Gojo and Getou. Last year, during the exorcism of a Grade 1 cursed spirit, he learned to execute 'Black Flash.' This year, he is already a quasi–Grade 2 sorcerer."
Zen'in Naoya raised a brow. "Not from a sorcerer family? And he landed a 'Black Flash' in his first year?"
Yaga Masamichi nodded.
Zen'in Naoya committed the name to memory. "Not bad. Does he have an innate technique?"
Yaga Masamichi replied, "No."
A trace of disappointment crossed Zen'in Naoya's face. The Zen'in clan was particularly fond of absorbing sorcerers from outside the established families. Those without lineage were ideal candidates to be gathered under his command, to form the foundation of his own faction. However, without an innate technique, such a person was not worth the effort of recruitment.
"Getou?" Zen'in Naoya continued forward, stopping before the nameplate on the third dormitory door.
"Getou Suguru. A Cursed Spirit Manipulator," Yaga Masamichi stated, confirming the identity Zen'in Naoya had already guessed.
"Impressive," Zen'in Naoya offered in praise, though it was impossible to tell how sincere he was.
In any case, he headed straight for Gojo Satoru's dormitory. Stopping in front of the nameplate bearing the surname "Gojo," he said with unconcealed enthusiasm, "I want to see his room."
Yaga Masamichi replied calmly, "If you're not afraid of getting beaten up."
Zen'in Naoya looked genuinely surprised in return. "But you're his teacher!"
Yaga Masamichi replied evenly, "Even a teacher has principles that cannot be crossed. Only by upholding those boundaries can a teacher earn a student's respect."
Zen'in Naoya fixed his gaze on Yaga Masamichi, studying him carefully. This time, he truly saw something admirable in the man before him.
He had always considered himself a person with keen judgment—self-proclaimed, of course.
He rarely misjudged someone's strengths. Even his father had once admitted that his eye for talent was fairly reliable.
"If I were willing to enroll, would you still refuse me?" Naoya asked.
"No means no."
"Ha—now you're interesting," Naoya said with a short laugh. "You know how to maintain proper boundaries. I apologize for my earlier thoughtless remarks. You're actually a decent teacher—far better than those of mine who lack even the slightest self-awareness."
In that moment, Zen'in Naoya revised his opinion of Tokyo Jujutsu High—and, at the same time, elevated his own self-image a notch higher.
Yaga Masamichi sensed that the matter of inviting him to enroll was more than halfway toward success.
"Where's your cafeteria?" Naoya asked bluntly. "I'd like to see what kind of food Tokyo Jujutsu High provides. I'm using the right word, aren't I? In outside schools, the place where a bunch of ordinary students eat is called a 'cafeteria,' correct?"
Yaga Masamichi's good mood instantly evaporated.
Maintaining his usual composure, he discreetly pinched his palm, reminding himself that the young man before him was a pampered heir who had grown up with servants laying out his clothes and meals placed directly before him.
It's fine, he reassured himself. Gojo Satoru managed to survive a full year here without incident. That proves this school is a place that tempers people.
"We… tend to favor small private kitchens here," Yaga said carefully.
"Small private kitchens?" Naoya's eyes lit up. "So each student has a personal chef who prepares their three daily meals in their own kitchen? That's not bad—just like at my house."
"Well… it's not exactly convenient to show you around at the moment…"
"Is Satoru-kun in class right now?"
"I'll take you there," Yaga Masamichi said. "But while you're observing from outside the classroom, please do not make any noise or disturb them."
"No problem," Zen'in Naoya agreed readily.
Outside the classroom, the young heir of the Zen'in clan—who, like Gojo Satoru, had been raised under the rigid education system of a great jujutsu family—caught sight of the person he admired most: the most outstanding bearer of the "Six Eyes" among the Three Great Sorcerer Clans. The white-haired prodigy was slumped in his chair, fast asleep, his head buried between his folded arms. His striking white hair stood out conspicuously, and his entire posture radiated an air of carefree ease, utterly devoid of the overwhelming presence he had displayed at clan gatherings when he had crushed Naoya without effort.
Zen'in Naoya pondered this for a second. What exactly was Satoru-kun studying? Was he learning how to blend into the ranks of ordinary sorcerers?
A faint spark of rebellion stirred within him at the sight of Gojo Satoru.
If Gojo Satoru could do it, then so could I! I would certainly come to understand the mindset of the strong!
"Yaga-sensei, may I join this class?" Naoya asked, his interest in the school growing stronger by the moment, unwilling to give up.
"You will have to start from the first year," Yaga Masamichi replied, shaking his head. "Those are the rules."
Naoya had a certain respect for "rules." After all, as the next head of his clan, he would one day be responsible for upholding the family's code and establishing regulations of his own. His understanding of school life came entirely from Japanese television dramas—only slightly more informed than Gojo Satoru's. He and his father simply enjoyed different genres of shows at home.
"Fine, then I have one last request—"
"You must redesign a proper, good-looking uniform for me. If it's too ugly, I won't accept it."
The clothes had to be splendid, classical, and loose-fitting.
Zen'in Naoya stubbornly believed that Satoru-kun was flawless in every respect: his face was perfect, his technique was perfect, and his personality embodied the very essence of a strong individual. The only flaw, in Naoya's opinion, was that the black school uniform was a bit too form-fitting. When Satoru lay sprawled over his desk, it revealed the not-yet-fully-developed lines of a sixteen-year-old boy's physique, lacking the refined elegance he possessed when dressed in traditional kimono.
As for the Curse Spirit Manipulator's oversized, lantern-like trousers? They were simply too ugly—an unforgivable blemish on one's personal image and sense of taste.
Zen'in Naoya found them too unsightly to endure and haughtily averted his gaze.
Yaga Masamichi felt utterly drained.
Could the heirs of the Three Great Sorcerer Clans be a little more tough and stoic? Must every one of them display such delicate fastidiousness?
…
Inside the classroom, the black-haired boy seated at the second desk by the window curved his lips into a faint smile, having already noticed the two figures outside conversing in low voices.
Someone capable of altering fate had arrived.
This year's grand drama is about to begin…!