Three years had passed since the old jujutsu system had fallen apart.
The disappearance of the higher-ups had left more than empty positions and unfinished paperwork. It had left an entire society questioning the rules it had followed for generations. For years, the jujutsu world had operated under a system that valued strength but rarely considered the people carrying it. Decisions were made behind closed doors, missions were assigned without sufficient consideration for the sorcerers involved, and young students were often expected to face responsibilities far beyond their experience.
The system had survived because people had learned to obey it. But after everything that had happened, obedience was no longer enough.
The old structure had been dismantled, and a new one had slowly taken its place. It wasn't perfect. There were disagreements, difficult decisions, and plenty of problems that still needed solving. However, for the first time, the future of jujutsu society was being shaped by the people who actually lived in it.
And Tokyo Jujutsu High was one of the places where those changes were most visible.
"Alright, everyone. Put your books away for a moment."
Yuji stood at the front of the classroom, writing a heading across the board. Raizen looked up from his notebook, already looking less than enthusiastic.
"Another theory lesson?"
"Yes."
"Again?"
Yuji turned around.
"Would you prefer an examination?"
Raizen immediately opened his notebook.
"No, thank you."
Shion quietly laughed while Kuroha continued reading the heading.
THE NEW JUJUTSU REGULATIONS
Yuji placed the marker down and faced the class.
"Today, we're discussing something important. The rules that govern the jujutsu world have changed considerably over the last three years. Since you're going to be working within this system, you need to understand why."
He began explaining how the previous leadership had operated. The old higher-ups had held authority over almost every major decision, from mission assignments to the treatment of young sorcerers. Their decisions had often been influenced by tradition, politics, and personal interests rather than the actual needs of the people working in the field.
"First, the old leadership structure is gone. The previous higher-ups held too much authority, and there wasn't enough accountability. The new system was created to prevent that from happening again."
Kuroha raised her hand.
"So who makes those decisions now?"
"An appointed governing council, with representatives from different areas of jujutsu society. Senior sorcerers, school representatives, medical authorities, and other relevant departments all have a voice."
"Does that mean one person can't make every decision?" she asked.
"Exactly."
Raizen leaned forward.
"Even if they're extremely powerful?"
Yuji nodded.
"Especially then."
Shion looked up from his notebook.
"Why especially?"
"Because strength doesn't automatically make someone a good leader."
The classroom became quieter.
Yuji continued explaining that the new leadership structure was designed to distribute responsibility rather than concentrate it in the hands of a few individuals. Decisions involving missions, training, and the safety of sorcerers would require proper consideration instead of being dictated by people who never experienced the consequences themselves.
He then wrote another heading on the board.
MISSION ASSIGNMENTS AND EVALUATIONS
"Second, missions are evaluated more carefully. A sorcerer's grade is important, but it doesn't tell us everything about their abilities."
Yuta, who had been sitting near the teacher's desk, added to the explanation.
"Before a mission is assigned, the expected threat level, available information, the abilities of the team, and possible civilian involvement are considered. Students aren't supposed to be sent into situations simply because someone believes they should be able to handle them."
Nobara crossed her arms.
"And if an assignment is clearly beyond your capabilities, you report it. You don't try to prove something by getting yourself into trouble."
Raizen looked slightly disappointed.
"That sounds restrictive."
Maki, standing near the door, answered immediately.
"Then you're welcome to ignore it and explain your decision to me afterward."
Raizen reconsidered.
"Actually, I think it's a very reasonable rule."
Shion nodded.
"Excellent decision."
Yuji shook his head, trying not to laugh.
"Anyway, the point is that missions are supposed to be handled responsibly. Your grade isn't an excuse to ignore the actual situation in front of you."
The students continued taking notes as Yuta explained the importance of team compatibility and proper mission preparation. The new regulations also required more detailed reports, clearer communication between instructors and students, and proper medical assessments after difficult assignments.
It wasn't about making sorcerers afraid of missions. It was about making sure they understood what they were doing and why.
"There's another thing you need to understand."
Yuji turned back towards the students.
"The old system had a serious weakness. It depended too much on powerful individuals."
Kuroha looked at him.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that whenever something went wrong, everyone expected the strongest sorcerers to fix it."
Yuta lowered his eyes briefly before looking towards the class.
"For a long time, one person's strength was treated as a solution to problems that should never have existed in the first place."
Nobara leaned against the desk.
"And that wasn't sustainable."
Yuji nodded.
"There was a time when everyone believed that having the strongest sorcerer alive meant the rest of the world would be protected."
Raizen looked interested.
"You're talking about Gojo-sensei?"
The name caught the attention of several students.
Yuji nodded.
"Yes."
Shion raised his hand.
"Was he really as strong as everyone says?"
Nobara looked at him.
"Unfortunately, yes."
Yuta smiled faintly.
"Probably stronger than the stories make him sound."
"Then why didn't the system just depend on him?" Raizen asked.
Yuji took a moment before answering.
"Because one person shouldn't have to carry an entire world."
Nobody interrupted.
"Gojo-sensei understood that. He didn't just want to be the strongest sorcerer. He wanted a future where the next generation wouldn't have to depend on someone like him to survive."
Kuroha looked down at her notebook.
"So the new system is based on what he wanted?"
"Partly," Yuta answered. "A lot of the changes came from ideas he had been pushing for years. But the people who survived the previous era had to turn those ideas into something practical."
Nobara added, "He wanted stronger students. Not students who simply followed orders. He wanted people who could think for themselves."
Shion tilted his head.
"That sounds like a teacher."
Yuji smiled.
"That's because he was one."
For a moment, the classroom fell quiet. The students had heard plenty of stories about Satoru Gojo, but most of them knew him through old records, photographs, and the occasional story told by their instructors. They knew he had been powerful. They knew he had been famous. But they were beginning to understand that his influence had extended far beyond his abilities.
He had wanted the system to change long before it finally did.
And the people he had taught were now responsible for making those changes last.
Three years earlier, however, Gojo's greatest challenge had apparently been something considerably less important.
"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS."
Gojo stood in front of a desk, holding a stack of papers. Suguru Geto sat nearby, looking through a book, while Shoko was examining something on her phone. Utahime stood opposite Gojo, looking increasingly irritated.
"What is this?" she demanded.
Gojo looked at the papers.
"Paperwork."
"I KNOW IT'S PAPERWORK!"
"Then why did you ask?"
Geto lowered his book.
"Gojo, perhaps you should stop."
"Stop what?"
"Whatever you're doing."
Shoko didn't even look up.
"That's a difficult request. He does several things wrong simultaneously."
Gojo placed one hand against his chest.
"Such cruelty. From my own classmates."
Utahime pointed at the documents.
"These are your mission reports. They're incomplete."
"They're finished."
"They're missing half the information!"
"That's because the other half was unnecessary."
Geto looked over the papers.
"You wrote 'everything went fine' in the incident description."
"It did."
"That's not an incident report."
"It's an accurate description."
Shoko finally looked up.
"He's technically not lying."
Utahime turned towards her.
"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"
Gojo grinned.
"See? Shoko understands me."
"I understand that you're annoying."
Geto calmly returned to his book.
"She's right."
Gojo stared at him.
"You're supposed to be my friend."
"I am. That's why I'm telling you."
Back in the present, Shion was laughing.
"Wait. Gojo-sensei actually submitted reports like that?"
Nobara nodded.
"Apparently, paperwork was his greatest enemy."
Yuji looked towards Yuta.
"Remember when he tried to make us complete his reports?"
Yuta sighed.
"I remember."
Nobara pointed at him.
"Don't leave out the part where he told us it was a team-building exercise."
Yuji started laughing.
"He said it would improve our communication skills!"
"It improved my desire to hit him," Nobara replied.
Kuroha looked genuinely surprised.
"Was he always like that?"
Yuji and Yuta exchanged a glance.
"Yes," they answered together.
The class laughed again, and Yuji waited until everyone had settled down before continuing.
"There's another important part of the new system. The responsibilities of instructors and mentors have changed too."
He explained that teachers were now expected to monitor student progress, provide appropriate training, and make sure students understood the risks associated with their work. Medical assessments and recovery protocols had been given greater importance, while mission reports had to include accurate information.
Sorcerers were also encouraged to raise concerns when they noticed flaws in an assignment. The intention was to create an environment where students could question decisions instead of blindly following instructions.
"Being strong doesn't mean you should fight alone," Yuta said. He walked towards the board and wrote a sentence underneath the regulations.
STRENGTH IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO ABANDON RESPONSIBILITY.
"And being weaker than someone else doesn't mean your contribution is meaningless. An effective team isn't made up of people with identical abilities. It's made up of people who understand how to use their differences."
Maki nodded.
"An effective team needs people who understand their own strengths and weaknesses. Confidence means nothing if you can't work with the people around you."
Raizen looked at her.
"So teamwork is important even if someone is individually stronger?"
"Yes."
"Even if they're much stronger?"
"Yes."
"Even if they're the strongest?"
Maki stared at him.
"Do you need this explained again?"
"No."
"Good."
Shion raised his hand.
"Can I ask something?"
Yuji nodded.
"Go ahead."
"If the strongest person isn't supposed to protect everyone, then who does?"
Yuji looked at him.
"Everyone."
Shion blinked.
"Everyone?"
"Everyone who is capable of helping. The teachers, the mentors, the experienced sorcerers, and eventually, you three."
He paused before continuing.
"That's the point. We aren't building a world that needs one person to save it every time something goes wrong. We're building one where people can protect each other."
Kuroha considered the words. It was a different way of looking at strength, and perhaps that was exactly what the new generation needed to learn.
The idea reminded Yuji of something from his own student days.
"Listen carefully."
Gojo stood in front of Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, holding a piece of chalk. Megumi looked exhausted, Nobara looked impatient, and Yuji appeared unusually enthusiastic.
"Today's lesson is about the importance of teamwork."
Megumi glanced at Nobara.
"Why are you looking at me?"
"Because you never cooperate."
"I cooperate."
"With who?"
"People."
"Name one."
Gojo watched them argue.
"Wonderful. Excellent communication already."
Yuji raised his hand.
"Gojo-sensei, does teamwork mean we should always fight together?"
"Not necessarily."
Megumi looked at him.
"Then what does it mean?"
"It means understanding what your teammates can do, knowing when to rely on them, and knowing when they need you."
Gojo drew three circles on the board.
"Three people. Three different abilities. Three different ways of thinking. If you can understand how those things work together, you'll be much more effective than if you simply try to overpower everything individually."
Nobara crossed her arms.
"So you're saying we have to depend on each other?"
"Exactly."
Megumi nodded slightly.
Yuji smiled.
"That makes sense!"
Gojo grinned.
"Of course it does. I'm an excellent teacher."
Nobara looked at him.
"You just drew three circles."
"Beautiful circles."
"One of them is crooked."
"Artistic freedom."
Megumi sighed.
"Can we go back to the lesson?"
"Of course, Megumi. I was just testing your patience."
"You do that every day."
"See? He's learning."
Back in the present, Yuji looked at the students.
"That's what we want you to understand. Your generation isn't here to repeat our mistakes. You're here to build something better."
Raizen leaned back.
"So we're supposed to become stronger together."
"Yes," Yuta answered.
"Not just individually?"
"Both matter. But individual strength without judgment or cooperation can become a problem."
Shion nodded.
"I think I understand."
Kuroha closed her notebook.
"So the new rules aren't just restrictions. They're meant to change how sorcerers think."
Yuji smiled.
"Exactly."
Nobara looked at the three students.
"Good. At least someone was paying attention."
Raizen raised his hand.
"I was paying attention."
"Then tell me what the first rule was."
Raizen froze.
Shion slowly turned towards him.
Kuroha closed her eyes.
Yuji looked away, trying not to laugh.
Raizen cleared his throat.
"Well..."
Nobara smiled.
"Go on."
"It was..."
"Yes?"
"Something about... rules."
Maki sighed from the doorway.
"Unbelievable."
The lesson ended later that afternoon. The students began collecting their books and leaving the classroom. Kuroha remained behind for a moment, looking at the sentence Yuta had written on the board.
Strength is not an excuse to abandon responsibility.
She thought about what Yuji had said. There was no single person responsible for protecting everyone anymore. The world had changed because the old system had failed, and the people who remained had decided that it couldn't continue the same way.
The previous generation had inherited a broken world. Now they were trying to make sure the next generation wouldn't inherit the same problems.
Outside, Raizen was already arguing with Shion about their upcoming training session.
"You're going to lose."
"You're assuming you'll win."
"I know I'll win."
"That's what makes this interesting."
Kuroha walked past them.
"Can you both stop arguing for five minutes?"
"No," they answered together.
She sighed. Some things, apparently, never changed.
Yuji watched the three students from the classroom doorway. Yuta came to stand beside him, followed by Nobara, who was carrying a folder under her arm.
"They're starting to understand," Yuta said.
"Yeah," Yuji replied.
Nobara glanced towards Raizen, who was now attempting to convince Shion to settle their argument through an arm-wrestling match.
"Let's just hope they remember today's lesson."
Yuji looked at her.
"Why wouldn't they?"
Nobara raised an eyebrow.
"Because we're apparently teaching children who share one brain cell."
Yuta laughed.
Yuji sighed.
"You're not wrong."
They watched the students disappear down the corridor. The old generation had been taught by someone who believed that the future could be changed. Now they were responsible for teaching that same belief to someone else.
They couldn't promise their students a world without curses. They couldn't promise that every mission would end safely, or that strength would always be enough. But they could give them something the previous system had never properly offered: a chance to become stronger without being forced to become someone else's weapon.
A chance to question the rules.
A chance to protect one another.
And a chance to build a future that didn't depend on one person standing above everyone else.
The new rules weren't simply regulations written on paper. They were the beginning of a different jujutsu society, one that would be shaped by the people who came after.
And this time, they intended to make it last.