Ever since I returned from resolving the tragedy at Seiryu Nursing Hospital, I've been lost in deep thought.
It was because of the overwhelming display of skill Kanao showed in the first-floor lobby that day.
The violent scene of hundreds of Cursed Energy rain-streaks, channeled through hundreds of cell phones, battering the Cursed Spirit and shredding its human skin from every direction.
When I really think about it, the true outliers and powerhouses of this Jujutsu Kaisen world all possess exceptional long-range techniques as a basic requirement.
The first one that comes to mind is, without a doubt, that guy—Ryomen Sukuna.
Four arms, four eyes, and two mouths. A literal human-wannabe freak with double the specs of a normal person.
His 'Dismantle'—the slashing attack he spams like a basic auto-attack as easily as breathing.
The lethality of those invisible long-range slashes that cleave through the air at imperceptible speeds is nothing short of a natural disaster.
The second one, of course, is Satoru Gojo, who wouldn't back down from anyone in the jujutsu world.
At this point in time, he's just an Ordinary One—a hybrid loser with no Reverse Cursed Technique and no Domain—but ten years from now, even the title of 'The Strongest of the Modern Era' won't be enough to describe him.
Blue! Red! Mix it, mix it, whatever-kilo mix it, Purple!
Honestly, the combination of Limitless and Six Eyes is an absurdly broken 'elementary schooler's OC' technique, but I have to admit the guy is terrifyingly strong.
Especially that overwhelming long-range bombardment of the Gojo clan's secret art, Hollow Purple, which erases everything in its path.
Thirdly, a person I haven't even met yet crossed my mind: Yuta Okkotsu.
Even though I'm living in this era and haven't seen him personally, there's no way I wouldn't know the guy the original author pushed as the secondary protagonist.
With that famous line, "How rude, this is NTR," he fires high-output Cursed Energy discharges through the Special Grade Vengeful Cursed Spirit Rika Orimoto. And then there's Geto's counter, the Maximum: Uzumaki of Cursed Spirit Manipulation.
...So, I curled my fingers into a flicking gesture and gathered a small amount of Cursed Energy at the tip.
Ting!
As I flicked my finger toward the air, a small clump of Cursed Energy flew out like a bullet and accurately struck an empty soda can on the desk.
'The power is pathetic.'
To discharge pure Cursed Energy externally without the support of a specific Innate Technique, one must go through two simple preliminary calculations.
First, setting the 'Projectile Cursed Energy Amount,' which determines the damage dealt to the target.
Second, calculating the 'Propulsion Cursed Energy Amount,' which acts as the gunpowder to launch that projectile.
The principle itself is simple. However, the moment you add real-world variables like air resistance, distance to the target, and trajectory correction, the calculations become complex and the efficiency of the Cursed Energy hits rock bottom.
'This chronic efficiency issue hasn't been perfectly solved even after turning Mahoraga's Dharma Wheel dozens of times to adapt.'
This was a fundamental problem that didn't go away even after I rotated the Dharma Wheel above my head dozens of times to attempt adaptation. At best, my firepower had only upgraded slightly from the level of a slingshot to a handgun.
What I desperately want right now is an area-of-effect skill—a bazooka that can sweep away everything in front of me.
I silently looked down at Muramasa strapped to my waist.
The sword is undeniably powerful, but it has a clear limitation.
A sword, as a weapon, can never escape the physical range of its blade's length. The reason I couldn't bisect that giant Dumpling-Filling Cursed Spirit in one go was simply because the length of my sword couldn't match the creature's volume.
Is there really a breakthrough that can pull my combat power up to the next level?
After agonizing over it for a long time, I eventually ruffled my hair in frustration.
"Ah, damn it, I don't know!"
As I scratched my messy hair, I suddenly remembered the advice Old Man Ougi had given me.
The suggestion that once the task was over and I returned to Tokyo, I should stop by the New Shadow Style dojo. It was sincere advice from a fellow warrior to learn the detailed psychological warfare involved when facing an opponent with a blade.
"There's no way a correct answer is going to pop out if I just stay holed up in my room moping by myself."
Right, in times like this, it's better to just go for it. If I go to a traditional dojo and roll around intensely among fellow swordsmen, I might just stumble upon an unexpected opportunity that expands my narrow perspective.
Having made up my mind, I jumped up from my seat and kicked open the dormitory door, heading toward the dojo without hesitation.
[ New Shadow Style Dojo ]
"I am Hachiro! I have come today to seek instruction in the sword from my seniors in the jujutsu world. I look forward to working with you!"
Clap, clap!
Finding the New Shadow Style dojo was much easier than I expected. Once I contacted the main house, a letter of recommendation with the Zenin clan's name on it and the dojo's location were immediately delivered, allowing me to enter the dojo without any trouble.
"At ease."
At a single word from the man who appeared to be the Headmaster and director of the dojo, the interior—which had been filled with the sounds of spirited shouts—instantly became as quiet as a dead mouse.
He was a small, elderly man with a worn, aged face.
"This is an honored guest who has come as part of our exchange with the Zenin clan. Ensure his instruction is thorough. Assistant Instructor Atsuya!"
"Yes! Headmaster!"
"I am entrusting the guest's guidance to you."
"Understood! Lord Hachiro, please come this way."
'Atsuya? No way... that face, is that Atsuya Kusakabe? The one they call Silver-ham?'
I was internally shocked when I saw the face of the man who volunteered to guide me. To think I'd see Kusakabe, a Grade 1 Sorcerer in the original story, here.
Unlike the lazy, unmotivated middle-aged man from the original work who found everything a chore, the young Kusakabe before my eyes was the literal embodiment of a disciplined, by-the-book drill instructor.
Tak! Paaaaak!
In a corner of the dojo, the sharp sound of wooden swords clashing fiercely rang out.
"The origin of the New Shadow Style is rooted in self-defense," Kusakabe explained in a disciplined voice as he withdrew his wooden sword.
"Therefore, even if you are underestimated by your opponent, you must maintain a low stance and always keep your sword housed in its scabbard. However, since we are currently sparring with wooden swords and not real blades, please just place your hand on your waist and mimic the posture of a sheathed sword."
Following his instructions, I pressed the wooden sword I had been issued against my waist instead of Muramasa and lowered my stance significantly.
"Then, the moment the opponent lets their guard down or shows an opening by swinging their weapon wide—draw!"
Puck!
I reflexively raised my wooden sword and flicked it away like a parry, intercepting Kusakabe's sudden, lunging attack.
"Good. If the first draw is blocked or fails like just now, do not panic. Immediately lower your stance again and follow up with a powerful horizontal thrust. If the opponent is pushed back by that momentum, do not pursue them recklessly. Re-sheathe and prepare your Iai stance once more."
As I took the Iai stance according to his advice, Kusakabe nodded and spoke.
"This series of processes involves setting a sort of virtual range centered on yourself, a Simple..."
"Ahem, Atsuya! That's enough!"
Just as Kusakabe was about to mention a crucial core of the martial art, another elderly instructor who had been watching with his hands behind his back hurriedly cut him off. Kusakabe flinched, clicked his tongue, and shut his mouth tight.
'...Hmm?'
Holding my wooden sword, I tilted my head inwardly.
To be sure, Kusakabe's kind explanation was a huge help in understanding the detailed psychological maneuvers of anti-personnel swordsmanship.
But for a while now, every time Kusakabe tried to provide supplementary explanations while teaching the basics, the elderly instructors nearby would subtly intervene and stop him.
Furthermore, the students further away, who were supposedly sweating while swinging their wooden swords in their own spars, were suspicious. Despite their loud shouts, every single one of them was obsessively observing my movements out of the corners of their eyes.
'This isn't just a level of spying on the skills of a guest from another family. What's with this shady atmosphere?'