At half past six in the morning, on the training ground of the Tokyo Jujutsu High, the morning mist had not yet completely dissipated.
The rubber track was slightly wet with dew, glistening with tiny lights under the rising sun. In the distance, from the fir forest, came the early songs of birds. The air was so fresh it was sweet with the scent of grass and trees—if not for the few figures struggling on the track.
"Hah... hah... I can't go on..."
Eriri bent over, hands on her knees. Her golden twin tails were wet with sweat, several strands of hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. She was wearing the navy blue sportswear provided by the college—the size was too big, the cuffs rolled up twice to reveal her wrists—her chest and back were drenched, her breathing fast like a worn-out bellows.
Beside her, Utaha Kasumigaoka's condition wasn't much better. The black-haired girl leaned against the railing next to the track, her long crimson hair casually tied into a low ponytail, stray strands on her forehead soaked with sweat. Today, she wasn't wearing her special glasses, having switched to her ordinary black-rimmed ones, but the lenses were fogged up from her breath. She pressed her side with one hand and frowned, clearly enduring the stomach pain from running.
Only Megumi Kato managed to maintain her posture. The bob-haired girl was also in sportswear, her presence still faint, but at least her breathing was relatively steady, her cheeks slightly flushed, and a thin layer of sweat beaded on her forehead.
"The physical strength of the three exchange students..." Yuji Itadori scratched his short pink hair, a little embarrassed. "Is worse than I thought. We've only run three laps—1200 meters..."
"What do you mean 'only' three laps?!" Eriri looked up, her blue eyes blazing with anger—though the anger was mostly diluted by exhaustion. "What normal person runs three laps in the morning?! And this track is 400 meters per lap, right? This is just violence!"
"But," Itadori said seriously, "sorcerers need basic physical fitness. Even if you're not fighting on the front lines, you should at least be able to run when chased by a cursed spirit, right? Kugisaki is a ranged sorcerer, but she can easily run ten laps."
He pointed to the other side of the track.
Nobara Kugisaki was doing stretching exercises, her short orange hair like pulsing flames in the morning light. Hearing her name, she turned her head and waved, smiling a bright smile—a smile that, in Eriri's eyes, was full of mockery.
"Kugisaki-san is a monster..." Eriri muttered quietly.
"Kombu."
A voice suddenly came from behind.
Eriri jumped, turning to see Toge Inumaki standing behind her. The second-year was wearing the college's sportswear today, but his collar was still pulled up high, covering the lower part of his face, revealing only a pair of purple eyes. He held three bottles of sports drinks and handed them to them.
"Thorn says, hydrate first," Panda translated, his round body wearing a special sports vest, looking a bit comical. "Rest for five minutes, then continue. Physical training needs to be gradual. If you push too hard at once, you'll get injured."
"Continue?!" Eriri and Utaha exclaimed simultaneously.
"Of course, you know," Satoru Gojo's voice came from under a parasol next to the track.
The "strongest of our time" was rarely seen in sportswear today—a white short-sleeved t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants—but he still wore his signature black blindfold. He sat on a reclining chair under the parasol, holding a cup of shaved ice, digging into it with a small spoon. The ice was topped with strawberry jam, chocolate sauce, and condensed milk, piled up like a small snowy mountain.
On another recliner next to him, Genji lay in the same posture, also holding a cup of shaved ice—matcha flavor. Today, he wore a simple white t-shirt and light blue jeans, his black hair casually tied back with a hair tie. He looked like an ordinary college student, if not for his hovering state half a foot off the ground.
"You're exchange students. You don't have to meet the standards of combat sorcerers," Satoru Gojo scooped up a large spoonful of shaved ice and put it in his mouth, squinting with satisfaction. "But basic physical fitness needs to be qualified. At least... when you encounter a Grade 3 cursed spirit, you should be able to run away, not stand there waiting to die."
"Running away also requires physical strength," Genji added, scooping up a spoonful of matcha shaved ice and savoring it. "Modern desserts are really delicious... Ah, where was I? Oh yes, Eriri, your current cursed energy is slowly growing, but without corresponding physical support, it's like putting a rocket engine on a toy car—either you lose control or you fall apart."
A typical Zen'in Genji metaphor—strange but vivid.
Eriri glared at him, but didn't have the strength to argue. She took the sports drink from Inumaki, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp. The cool liquid slid down her throat, slightly relieving the heat and fatigue.
"Break's over~" Satoru Gojo clapped his hands and stood up from the chair. "Let's go. Today's goal is five laps—2000 meters. Don't rush, run slowly, or walk if you have to. The main thing is to finish."
Eriri's face fell. But before she could protest, Itadori had already walked over to her with that signature sunny smile.
"I'll run with you! Don't worry, I'll control my pace!"
And so the training continued.
The morning light grew brighter and brighter, and the shadows on the training ground gradually shortened. The other students also began their own training—Megumi Fushiguro practicing his hand seals, Inumaki and Panda sparring, Nobara Kugisaki practicing her cursed technique throwing. The whole training ground was full of energy, unlike the three exchange students struggling on the track.
"Why... why..." Eriri gasped, her steps heavy as if filled with lead. "Do only we have to run... Utaha-senpai... Kato... obviously... all together..."
"Because the physical strength of you three really needs improvement," Itadori ran beside her, his steps relaxed, as if he were walking—he really was walking to match Eriri's speed. "Although sorcerers mainly rely on cursed energy for combat, physical strength is the foundation. See Fushiguro? He's a shikigami user, but he's also very good at hand-to-hand combat. Kugisaki is a cursed technique user, but she's not weak in close combat either..."
"That bastard..." she looked toward the parasol and gritted her teeth. "Sitting there eating shaved ice, watching me suffer... and he's laughing! He really is laughing!"
Under the parasol, Genji was indeed laughing.
He leaned back in his chair, holding the shaved ice cup in one hand, the other behind his head, his deep indigo eyes watching the struggling blonde on the track, the corners of his lips lifting in a clear, playful arc.
"It's hard work," he said quietly.
"She is the one you chose, after all," Satoru Gojo scooped up some shaved ice, the corners of his mouth beneath the black blindfold also smiling. "But honestly, their physical strength is just terrible. Especially Eriri. Didn't she exercise at all as a child?"
"She's an artist. She spends most of her time sitting in front of a computer," Genji said. "I understand. But..."
He paused and shifted his gaze to Yuji Itadori.
The pink-haired boy was running with Eriri, saying words of encouragement as he ran, his expression serious and enthusiastic. His cursed energy was pure, warm like the morning sun.
But Genji's "eyes" saw more than just the surface.
He saw something dormant inside the boy.
Crimson—violent, with the cursed aura of a thousand years. Four arms, two faces, scarlet lines—though suppressed, sleeping, they were there.
Ryomen Sukuna.
"That young man," Genji said slowly, "is Sukuna's vessel?"
"Yes," Satoru Gojo nodded, his tone casual, as if discussing today's weather. "Yuji Itadori, first year. He accidentally swallowed one of Sukuna's fingers. Sukuna's consciousness now sleeps in his body, occasionally waking up to say a few harsh words. But Itadori can suppress him, and so far, he's very stable."
"One finger..." Genji repeated the word, his eyes complex. "That guy actually cut himself into twenty pieces. To come to this era, that's really a bloody investment."
"After all, it's to meet you," Satoru Gojo smiled. "Sukuna waited a thousand years for you. Strangely, though, he's been quiet since awakening. He hasn't caused any trouble or tried to take over the body. According to the records, he should be a mad killer."
Genji was silent for a few seconds, then smiled.
There was joy in that smile, and also a hint of indescribable... nostalgia?
"He's not quiet," Genji said. "He's observing and waiting. That Sukuna guy seems crazy, but he's actually more cautious than anyone else. He won't show his hand easily until he's sure. And..."
He paused, his gaze still on Yuji Itadori. "Right now, he's incomplete, with only the power of one finger. Seeing me like this, he probably feels... regretful."
"Regretful?" Satoru Gojo raised an eyebrow.
"That guy's pride is insanely high," Genji scooped up a spoonful of shaved ice. "In his eyes, only a complete 'him' is qualified to stand before me. So... he'd probably rather continue sleeping."
Satoru Gojo nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That's why he hasn't come out to cause trouble, but is just waiting to collect more fingers and restore his power?"
"Maybe," Genji said. "Maybe... he's waiting for the right moment. Sukuna never does anything without reason. Every step he takes has a purpose. Even if that purpose seems crazy to others, it's reasonable according to his own logic."
They fell silent, only the soft sound of spoons scraping against shaved ice cups breaking the quiet.
Eriri on the track finally finished her fourth lap. She almost walked the last 100 meters, and as soon as she crossed the finish line, she sat down on the ground, breathing heavily, not even having the strength to curse.
Utaha and Megumi Kato were a little better, but they were also pale and resting on the railing.
Itadori crouched in front of Eriri and handed her a towel. "Great! Four laps! Only one lap left!"
"Just kill me..." Eriri took the towel and covered her face, her voice muffled.
"Come on, come on!" Itadori was completely unaffected by her dejected words and was still enthusiastic. "One last lap! After you finish running, you can rest! And Gojo-sensei said the cafeteria has special pork cutlet rice today at noon. You can eat it after the run!"
"...Pork cutlet rice?" Eriri showed one eye from under the towel.
"Super big! Fried until golden and crispy, juicy on the inside, served with a special sauce and shredded cabbage!" Itadori described. "I had it last week, and it was delicious! You need to finish the last lap for the pork cutlet rice too!"
A typical Itadori-style encouragement—using food as bait.
But surprisingly, it worked. Eriri struggled to her feet and brushed the dust off her sportswear.
"...Last lap."
"Yeah! Last lap!"
The training continued.
Under the parasol, Genji watched this scene, and the smile at the corners of his lips deepened.
"That guy," he said, "is very interesting."
"Interesting?" Satoru Gojo nodded. "He's a good kid. Even though a thousand-year-old monster lives inside him, he's kind-hearted, responsible, and talented. Just sometimes his blood runs a little too hot, and he can't read the room."
"I was talking about Eriri," Genji corrected. "She was obviously dead tired and complaining, yet she still got up and kept going. That kind of 'never give up' spirit is very interesting."
He paused and added, "And the people gathering around her are also interesting. The Kasumigaoka girl is too smart. Kato's constitution is special. And now, Sukuna's vessel... She's like the center of a whirlpool, unconsciously drawing in all sorts of special beings."
"That's the so-called 'protagonist aura'?" Satoru Gojo teased.
"Maybe," Genji said noncommittally. "But for me, it's better. A thousand years later, the world has finally become less boring."
He put down the empty shaved ice cup, stood up, and stretched—though a ghost didn't need to stretch, he seemed to enjoy the action.
"I'll go to them. You eat your dessert."
"Go ahead~" Satoru Gojo waved the spoon in his hand.
Genji floated toward the track. He still remained "invisible," and only Utaha, with her special glasses, could see him.
He floated up to Eriri and "ran" alongside her.
"Hey, Eriri," he spoke, his voice only audible to Eriri.
"What do you want..." Eriri panted, unable to look at him.
"Half a lap left. Come on."
"...Besides saying sarcastic things... what else can you do...?"
"I'll cheer you on."
╔══════════════════════╗
📘 Want more?
Join me on Patreon for bonus chapters
and early access!
🔗 https://www.patreon.com/cw/OverlordD
╚══════════════════════╝