Early the next morning.
Inside Masamichi Yaga's office at Jujutsu High.
"You want to take Suguru for physical combat training?"
Masamichi Yaga adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and looked at Yoru standing before his desk, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Suguru's state has indeed been poor lately. Between the heavy missions and his own thoughts, he's like a tightly wound string."
"But are you sure his body can handle your style of training right now?"
Yaga knew Yoru's combat style well.
It was a pure aesthetic of violence—monster-class physical prowess where every swing of his blade carried destructive heat.
Even Satoru Gojo was reluctant to engage in close-quarters combat with Yoru while his Limitless was active, let alone Suguru Geto, whose physical stats were nowhere near Yoru's.
"Don't worry, Principal Yaga."
Yoru casually picked up a plush toy from the desk and toyed with it, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"It's precisely because he's wound so tight and spends all day overthinking those philosophical questions that he needs a primitive method to empty his head."
"I'll beat him until he's too tired to lift a finger and just collapses into sleep. Then he won't have the spare energy to worry about that 'protecting monkeys' nonsense."
Yaga looked at Yoru's confident expression, fell silent for a moment, and finally sighed.
"Fine. I'll cancel all of Suguru's missions for the next two weeks."
"Yoru, I'm leaving Suguru in your hands. He's a child who keeps everything bottled up inside. If you hadn't stopped him last night, I'm afraid he might have done something foolish."
"Leave it to me."
Yoru turned and left the office, waving a hand over his shoulder at Yaga.
The dedicated training ground in the mountains behind the school.
The high noon sun scorched the earth relentlessly, and even the air seemed to ripple with the heat.
*Thud!*
Suguru Geto's body flew like a broken kite, slamming hard into the solid ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Cough... cough..."
He curled up in pain, clutching his abdomen where the wooden sword had struck, coughing violently.
His once-neat black uniform was now tattered and covered in dirt and sweat.
His face was bruised purple and blue, and a trail of blood hung from the corner of his mouth. He looked absolutely wretched.
"Can't get up already?"
Yoru held an ordinary wooden sword loosely, his breathing not even slightly disturbed as he looked down at the fallen Suguru.
"Is your Cursed Spirit Manipulation really just throwing out captured spirits like trash and then hiding in the back to watch the show?"
"Too slow! Your reactions, your footwork, your punches—they're all full of holes!"
Yoru hadn't used Shiranui, nor had he even activated his Breathing Style.
Using nothing but basic physical combat and swordsmanship, he was ruthlessly crushing Suguru Geto, who had already summoned three Grade 2 cursed spirits.
"Shut up!"
Suguru gritted his teeth, enduring the agonizing pain that felt like his bones were shattering, and suddenly flipped himself up from the ground.
"Kuchisake-onna!"
With a low shout, a terrifying cursed spirit holding giant scissors appeared instantly behind Yoru.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
Kuchisake-onna let out a piercing shriek, swinging her scissors viciously toward Yoru's neck.
At the same time, Suguru didn't remain idle.
Forcing out his remaining stamina, he lunged forward, launching a heavy leg sweep aimed at Yoru's lower body.
A pincer attack!
This was a coordinated tactic Suguru had finally developed after being pummeled for three straight days.
However, faced with this seemingly perfect pincer, Yoru only shook his head slightly.
"The coordination is too stiff."
*Swish!*
Without even turning around, Yoru flicked his wooden sword backward at an incredibly bizarre angle.
With a sharp crack, the wooden sword struck Kuchisake-onna's wrist joint with pinpoint precision, instantly sending her scissors flying.
Then, as if defying the laws of physics, Yoru's body left an afterimage where he stood.
Suguru's leg sweep missed entirely.
Before he could react, Yoru appeared at his side.
"Don't treat cursed spirits as simple tools; they are extensions of your own power!"
"Your physical combat can't be disconnected from the spirits. You must learn to use your own body to fill the gaps in their attacks!"
*Thump!*
Like a viper's strike, Yoru's wooden sword cracked sharply against the back of Suguru's knee.
Suguru's legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees once more.
"Again!"
Yoru pulled back the wooden sword, his gaze cold and devoid of emotion.
"If you can't even block my wooden sword, how do you expect to protect those you want to protect?"
"How will you face Special Grade cursed spirits that are stronger and more cruel than I am?"
Suguru didn't speak.
He gritted his teeth hard, propping himself up with his hands, and crawled back up from the dirt time and time again.
On the first day, he was beaten black and blue. He didn't even eat dinner, collapsing onto his dorm bed and falling into a dead sleep.
On the second day, he tried to overwhelm Yoru with sheer numbers of cursed spirits, only to have them all shattered by a wooden sword before being crushed into the dirt again.
The third day...
The fourth day...
Under this extreme, arguably inhumane physical exhaustion, Suguru did nothing but get beaten or sleep.
The nausea he felt from swallowing Cursed Spirit Orbs and the self-doubt sparked by the Star Religious Group followers...
...were all forced to the back of his mind in the face of sheer physical exhaustion.
It is only when one is idle that they wander into the depths of abstract philosophy.
When your muscles ache so much that even lifting a hand is a chore, and your brain is a blank void from lack of oxygen...
The only thing you can think about is how to survive the next strike.
This was exactly the effect Yoru was aiming for.
Days passed.
As the training deepened, Suguru's naturally gifted combat instincts began to awaken at an astonishing speed under the high pressure of Yoru's sparring.
He no longer just summoned spirits.
He began to incorporate the power-transfer techniques Yoru taught him into his coordination with the spirits.
One evening, half a month later.
The setting sun painted the training ground in a sea of gold.
"Hah... hah..."
Suguru panted heavily, sweat dripping from his chin onto the ground.
His stamina and cursed energy were both at their limits; his legs were even trembling slightly.
Across from him, Yoru remained as composed as ever, his wooden sword pointing casually at the ground.
"One last chance to attack."
Yoru said calmly.
Suguru took a deep breath. His gaze became incredibly focused, no longer containing his previous confusion or impatience.
"Rainbow Dragon!"
*Roar!*
The massive Special Grade cursed spirit, Rainbow Dragon, soared into the sky before charging head-on at Yoru with overwhelming force.
Yoru's eyes shifted slightly.
He didn't retreat. Instead, he gripped the wooden sword and took a standard interception stance.
"Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!"
*Boom!*
The wooden sword traced a perfect circle of water in the air, slamming directly into Rainbow Dragon's hard scales with a deafening impact.
In that split second when Yoru's momentum was spent and his new strength hadn't yet gathered...
"Now!"
Suguru's figure lunged out from beneath the Rainbow Dragon's massive body like a phantom!
He didn't hide in the back as he used to; instead, he used the dragon's massive frame as cover to perfectly exploit Yoru's blind spot!
He gathered every last drop of his cursed energy into his right fist.
"Black Flash!"
With a low roar, black sparks erupted from Suguru's fist!
The space itself seemed to distort from the sheer force of the blow!
This was the first time he had successfully landed a Black Flash during this half-month of extreme pressure!
A flicker of admiration flashed in Yoru's eyes.
He didn't activate the Transparent World, nor did he use Shiranui.
Faced with this ferocious punch, Yoru relied on pure physical strength to snap his wooden sword across his chest in a block.
*CRASH!!!*
The heavy impact echoed across the entire training ground.
The massive recoil sent Suguru flying backward like a cannonball, landing heavily on the grass.
As for Yoru, standing where he was...
After taking the terrifying impact of that Black Flash, his feet plowed two shallow furrows into the ground.
He had actually been pushed back half a step!
Though it was only half a step, for Yoru—who had used no sword aura and relied solely on his physical body to withstand a Special Grade spirit plus a Black Flash—this was a huge acknowledgment.
*Crack.*
The wooden sword in Yoru's hand emitted a sharp sound and completely shattered into splinters.
"Well done."
Yoru tossed aside the remaining hilt, brushed the wood chips off his hands, and walked over to Suguru.
"Using the cursed spirit as a screen, then following through with your own physical combat for a finishing blow."
"You've finally learned that spirits aren't tools, but parts of your own body."
Suguru lay sprawled on the grass, gulping in the fresh air.
Although his whole body felt like it was falling apart and he had been easily sent flying by Yoru...
...as he looked at the clouds stained red by the setting sun and felt the cool breeze on his cheeks...
He wore a relieved, pure smile for the first time in ages.
"Yoru, you bastard... you really didn't hold back."
There was no complaining, no confusion—only the pure satisfaction of a hard-fought battle.
Through this half-month of extreme pressure, the stagnation within him had been completely dispelled.
Yoru had used the simplest, most brutal method to drag him out of the dead end of self-doubt.
Seeing the youthful energy finally return to Suguru's smile...
Yoru knew his two weeks of special training hadn't been in vain.
However, just as this long-lost peace seemed ready to return to Jujutsu High...
*VROOOM!*
An incredibly arrogant, deafening roar of a heavy motorcycle engine suddenly drifted up from the mountain road below, ruthlessly shattering the silence.
The smile on Suguru's face stiffened slightly.
Yoru turned his head toward the mountain road, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"It seems peaceful days are always short-lived."
An uninvited guest had arrived.
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