However, before all of that, there was one major problem that made the back of my neck feel cold, as if an unseen hand had brushed against my skin.
I didn't even know how to use or control my own Cursed Energy yet.
"What's wrong, Kenji?" the boy asked again. This time, his tone was no longer cheerful. There was a hint of concern woven into it. He took half a step closer, peering at my face. "Are you feeling sick?"
That question snapped me fully back to reality. I flinched slightly, then quickly let out a slow, controlled breath. I couldn't look strange. Not now.
I immediately decided to calm my expression, relax my shoulders, and ease the tension in my face. Only then did I look back at the boy in front of me.
I forced a thin smile—a smile fitting for a confused child, not the panic of an adult man trapped inside the body of a four-year-old.
"Hey… I'm just a little dizzy," I said, doing my best to make my voice sound light and innocent. "By the way, can you tell me where we are?"
I paused for a moment, pretending to think, then added carefully, as if I were simply curious. "And who are you? Also… how old am I? What city is this? And what year is it now?"
I asked on purpose. Children often forget trivial things. Children often ask strange questions. It wouldn't look suspicious. It wouldn't immediately draw the attention of adults. At least, not yet.
"Huh?" The boy scratched his cheek with his index finger, his expression showing that he was thinking hard. "We're at Sakura Flower Orphanage."
"My name is Reito," he continued without hesitation. "You're four years old. We're in Akiruno City. And this year is 1999."
After answering, Reito stared at me closely. His brows furrowed again, clearly more confused than before. "Why are you asking all that?"
"Ah… it's nothing," I replied, maintaining that thin smile, even though my lips felt stiff.
Inside my heart, I let out a long breath—relief mixed with a heavy feeling I couldn't quite put into words. The year 1999.
I knew exactly what that meant.
The beginning of the Jujutsu Kaisen story was still quite far away.
"Thanks, Reito. By the way, why did you call me?" I asked with a small smile as I looked at the boy. I made my voice as comfortable as possible—not too mature, not too stiff—as if I were truly just a child responding casually to a friend's invitation.
The corner of my lips lifted into a friendly expression that felt slightly forced, as though I were still adjusting to the role of a small child that I now had to live as.
The muscles in my face felt awkward, and in my chest lingered a strange sensation—caught between wanting to blend in and a strong desire to keep my distance from any kind of crowd.
"Kenji, come play! The others are already downstairs!" Reito said enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled brightly, reflecting the morning light streaming in through the window, and his body leaned forward slightly, as if he were afraid I might refuse before he could properly persuade me. His voice was light and sincere, without even a trace of suspicion.
"Hahaha, you go ahead! I've decided to stay in the room!" I said while scratching my head. I did the gesture reflexively, imitating the habits of children I'd seen so often.
I tried to laugh lightly like a child my age, even though inside my head, countless thoughts that were anything but childish continued to spin, colliding with one another without pause.
"Alright, if that's what you want!" Reito shrugged casually, his smile not fading in the slightest. Then he turned around and walked toward the stairs leading down.
Reito's footsteps sounded quick and light, accompanied by the soft creak of wooden floorboards, until they were finally swallowed by the noisy voices of other children who had already gathered downstairs, laughing together.
I slowly looked around the room, letting the silence settle over the space once more. My gaze swept across every corner with care, as if I wanted to engrave even the smallest details into my memory.
It was a simple room, furnished with pieces that were somewhat worn by time, yet clean and neatly arranged—clear proof that the place was tended with sincerity despite its limited facilities. The faint scent of old wood mixed with freshly cleaned fabric lingered softly in the air.
Eventually, my eyes stopped on a book lying atop a small table beside a three-tiered bunk bed. Its cover was plain, the corners slightly dulled, but it was obvious that it had been used often.
I walked closer and carefully pulled out a chair, making sure not to create any unnecessary noise. Then I sat down, my back slightly hunched forward. Without wasting time, I opened the book and began to write something with measured care, ensuring every letter took shape neatly and clearly.
"Initial Objective: To sense Cursed Energy, control it, and strengthen the body with Cursed Energy."
I paused for a moment after writing the first sentence, staring at it as if reaffirming my own resolve. This was the foundation—the very first step, one that must not fail.
"Advanced Objective: Attempting to activate my Innate Techniques."
My hand tensed slightly as I wrote it down. There was hope in those words, but also uncertainty, quietly slipping between each line.
"Additional Objective: Studying Talismans, creating them, and attempting to produce various useful Talismans."
I drew a slow breath before continuing, imagining symbols, patterns, and functions that I might one day be able to master.
"Additional Objective: Studying Binding Vows, increasing Cursed Energy output through Binding Vows, strengthening the body with Binding Vows, and enhancing Innate Techniques with Binding Vows."
I stared at the notes in the book for quite some time. The writing inside was neatly arranged in English, looking utterly mismatched with the small hand holding the pen. A faint sense of satisfaction rose within me as I saw everything laid out so clearly, as if those goals had become a little more real simply by being written down.
I deliberately chose to write in English because it would be easier for me in the long run. This place was surrounded by children, and most likely they would not understand the language—that was precisely why I decided to write everything in English. The choice felt sharply contrasted with the small child's body I now inhabited, as though I were hiding a massive secret behind an innocent appearance.
After a few seconds passed, I let out a quiet breath, as if trying to dispel the unease pressing against my chest, then closed the book with a soft sound that was barely audible. My fingers lingered on the cover for a moment longer before I finally pulled them away.
My gaze shifted toward the window. Morning light streamed in gently, illuminating the wooden floor and casting long, tranquil shadows across the room. Beyond that light, I knew the path I had to walk would never be simple—but at the very least, I had written down its first step.
Outside, the children of the orphanage could be seen running around and laughing in the yard, their small bodies moving freely beneath the morning sun. Their laughter and cheerful shouts drifted faintly through the window, yet clearly enough to pierce the room's stillness and knock against my awareness.
Those sounds became a sharp reminder—that this place was not safe for me to do things recklessly. Dangerous situations could arise at any moment.
I needed to leave. I had to study Cursed Energy somewhere quiet and spacious, far from people, far from the possibility of hurting anyone innocent. A place where I could fail without fatal consequences.
If something unexpected happened—if I lost control and accidentally blew up the orphanage—I would be in serious trouble.
Not just ordinary trouble, but a catastrophe beyond repair. The mere thought of those children being hurt because of my own actions made my chest feel unbearably heavy. For that reason, finding a quiet and open place was no longer just an option—it was an absolute necessity.
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