The main hall was dim, illuminated only by a few candles flickering against the stone pillars. The dancing shadows gave the place the atmosphere of an ancient tomb.
"I won't beat around the bush. What is your purpose for being in this world?"
Masamichi Yaga didn't look up. He was focused on his crochet hook, slowly stitching together a plush doll.
Hearing those words, Hasegumo felt a prickle of cold sweat at the nape of his neck. Wait, did my reincarnation get exposed?
Stay cool. Stay cool, he told himself, patting his cheeks.
"Yaga-sensei... what exactly do you mean by that?" Hasegumo opted for the "play dumb" strategy to see where this was going.
"Is it that hard to understand?" Yaga slapped his own forehead, clearly frustrated. This kid is a total blockhead. I try to give the interview a bit of gravitas, and it goes right over his head. "I'm asking why you would give up a peak career in the martial arts world to come to Jujutsu High and step into the world of sorcery!"
"To protect the weak... or at least, that's what I would have said before," Hasegumo said, carefully choosing his words. "But that was an immature thought. It wasn't until I found my 'Heart' that I realized my true goal. What I want to protect is the world itself, as I see it. The 'weak' are just one part of the fabric of that world."
"And tell me," Yaga said, finally setting down his needlework, "what exactly is your 'Heart'?"
"Gratitude. Gratitude toward the entire world." Hasegumo pressed his palms together in a slight, respectful gesture. "I'm grateful to the world for granting me this talent, grateful to every life that makes up the world, and grateful for everything I've been allowed to see."
"I see." Yaga rested his chin on his hand, rubbing his goatee. "Go grab your things. Take the hallway to the right and pick any room you like."
"Huh?"
"You passed."
"Wait, what?" Hasegumo was genuinely baffled. He had come prepared for a full anime-protagonist experience—he expected Yaga to constantly shoot down his answers, followed by a grueling boxing match against a Cursed Corpse before finally earning his teacher's respect.
Although Yaga had told him at the tournament that there would be one final "test," it was mostly just to establish his authority as a teacher. He'd intended the question to be a formality, but Hasegumo's answer—which sounded like it came from an eighty-year-old monk—caught him off guard.
Despite the oddity of the response, Yaga trusted his gut. He knew Hasegumo had the potential to be an exceptional sorcerer. As for the Cursed Corpse boxing match? After seeing Hasegumo's tournament footage, Yaga knew the kid could probably turn his plushies into stuffing without even using Cursed Energy. Why waste perfectly good craftsmanship?
And so, Hasegumo officially enrolled in Tokyo Jujutsu High.
"I have one question: why did I have to get here so early? I thought there'd be new classmates around. This is boring."
Hasegumo dropped his bags in his room and started wandering the campus with Hachi on a leash. He explored every nook and cranny of the school, but after finding zero signs of other students, he gave up. He headed back to the clearing outside the dorms, let Hachi off the leash, and lay down on the grass.
While flipping through a volume of Hunter x Hunter, he rolled over and began practicing a traditional martial arts spinal conditioning exercise—the "Dragon's Back."
"Um... what exactly are you doing?"
A soft, slightly lethargic female voice drifted over.
"Reading manga."
"Well, obviously." Shoko Ieiri looked down at him, a bit deadpan. "I meant, why are you crawling around on the ground like that?"
Hasegumo flipped himself upright, about to explain, when a figure approached from the south.
It was a white-haired boy with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, radiating pure arrogance. From behind the lenses, eyes as blue and clear as the summer sky flickered with a sharp intelligence. He walked with his torso leaning slightly back, taking long, confident strides.
"What kind of Abnormal is this? Is he cosplaying? A human earthworm?"
"It's called 'Gloomy Crawling,' you moron," a black-haired boy interjected, approaching from the north. His voice was gentle, but his swagger was no less intense. He walked with his hands in his pockets, leaning forward slightly, moving with a gait that screamed I don't give a damn about anyone.
"Hah? #I'll kill you, Bangs-kun."
"Try it, Sunglasses-san. See what happens."
The first meeting between Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto was practically combustible. Yet, despite the trash talk, a single thought echoed in both of their minds: This guy is exactly my brand of crazy.
Ignoring the budding "bromance" between the two powerhouses, Hasegumo picked up the conversation Shoko had started.
"I'm training," he said, answering Shoko's question. Then he turned to the newcomers with a bright, open smile. "Are you guys the other freshmen? Nice to meet you. I'm Hasegumo, nineteen. My hobbies are Coke and martial arts. Looking forward to it."
Wait a second... Hasegumo's brain finally caught up. That's Satoru Gojo. He's so young. Did I get reincarnated into a prequel? How long am I going to have to wait for Itadori to show up? Only now did he realize his timeline was significantly off from his expectations.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Shoko Ieiri. My hobbies are smoking and drinking." Shoko's self-introduction was equally "heavyweight."
"You're a weird one, aren't you?" Gojo noted, looking at Hasegumo. Seeing how formal the others were being, he felt pressured to follow suit.
"Satoru Gojo." He reached out a hand toward Suguru Geto.
"Suguru Geto." Suguru felt the tension ease slightly and moved to shake hands, only for Gojo to swat his hand away with the back of his own.
"I'm not shaking your hand. I only acknowledge the strong. Once you become Special Grade, maybe we'll talk." Somehow, Gojo had produced a toothpick and was chewing on it, looking incredibly punchable.
"You arrogant...!" A vein popped on Suguru's forehead.
"Hahaha! Are you cosplaying as Atomic Samurai?" Hasegumo burst out laughing.
"Oh? You've got taste," Gojo said, turning to Hasegumo as if he'd found a kindred spirit. "ONE's art style is a bit of an acquired taste for most people." (At this time, the One-Punch Man manga hadn't yet been redrawn by Murata).
"I read manga to find inspiration for my abilities," Hasegumo said, waving his Hunter x Hunter volume. "I like things like this, but One-Punch Man is just great for the plot."
The group stood in a brief, silent appraisal of one another. Hasegumo looked at the girl with the beauty mark under her left eye and the dark circles that made her look like a cute panda; he felt an immediate sense of kinship.
What he didn't realize was that the nature of one's Cursed Energy is often influenced by personality. As fellow natural-born masters of the Reverse Cursed Technique, Shoko and Hasegumo shared a spiritual frequency that made them feel like old friends within minutes.
"Alright, that's everyone." Masamichi Yaga's arrival broke the silence. "I assume you've all introduced yourselves. Try to get along."
"Yes, sir!" Hasegumo shouted, full of energy. "Haaaai," Gojo drawled, sounding bored. "Understood," Suguru said, a mix of politeness and hidden ego.
"That's all for today's lecture. You have the next two days off. After that, we start assigning missions."
Yaga closed his book and addressed the group. "You're allowed off-campus, but remember: no using jujutsu on civilians, no fighting in crowded areas, and don't cause any trouble. Also, Shoko is a rare talent who can heal others with her Reverse Cursed Technique. On missions, you boys make sure you protect her." Yaga sounded like a nagging mother.
This wasn't the future era where Gojo would let sorcerers run wild. For new students, there was a mandatory three-month period of theoretical training—learning the fundamentals of Barrier Techniques and Cursed Energy manipulation.
Over those three months, the four became inseparable. Gojo and Suguru were constantly at each other's throats, duking it out on the training grounds until they were both exhausted, only to immediately team up to tease Hasegumo.
Hasegumo spent his free time training his martial arts and desperately trying to grasp Barrier Techniques. Lacking any talent for advanced mathematics, he spent most of those lectures looking like a deer in headlights. He didn't mind the duo's teasing, though—occasionally, he'd drop a comeback so sharp it left them both speechless.
As the only girl, Shoko spent her time either bickering with Gojo and Suguru or sitting on the sidelines watching Hasegumo train. All in all, they had become a tight-knit crew.
"Hey, since we finally have a break, let's go find some good food," Hasegumo suggested.
"OK! I know a great hotpot place in Tokyo," Gojo agreed. "A long-overdue first-year team dinner. Let's go!"
The group headed into the city.
...
"By the way, Gumo, what exactly is your Cursed Technique?" Suguru asked, swishing a piece of tripe in the boiling pot. "We've all seen my Cursed Spirit Manipulation and Satoru's Limitless, but you've never shown yours."
"You two fight so much that even my dog knows your techniques by heart," Hasegumo joked, dipping a piece of meat into garlic oil and devouring it. "Delicious."
"My technique is called Cursed Energy Liberation. It just allows my body to withstand a higher volume of Cursed Energy. It's pretty weak, honestly—nothing compared to monsters like you. But enough about me. Shoko, what's yours?"
Shoko had been trying to sneak a piece of luncheon meat from the pot in front of Gojo while his back was turned. At the mention of her name, she froze and put her chopsticks down like a guilty thief.
"I don't have an offensive technique. My only ability is using Reverse Cursed Technique to heal people."
"I see. What do you plan to do after graduation?" Hasegumo asked, chewing on a piece of cartilage.
"We just started school and you're already thinking that far ahead? Me... I'll probably just be a doctor," Shoko replied, her voice lacking confidence.
"What about you, Satoru?" Hasegumo asked.
"Why are you acting like an old man? Asking everyone about their future... so annoying." Gojo stuck out his tongue, but he answered anyway. "I'll probably be a teacher."
"I feel bad for your future students," Suguru interjected before Hasegumo could ask him. "As for me... I haven't decided yet."
"Why are we all actually answering him?" Gojo complained, taking a giant gulp of Coke. "It's like being in elementary school and answering the teacher. Why is Gumo the one asking the questions anyway? What about you?"
"I'll probably stay at the school, too. But Satoru, why do you eat your tripe so fast?"
"You have to catch tripe at its peak flavor! If you leave it in as long as you guys do, it tastes like a chewy dishrag."
As they ate and talked, a waiter approached their table tentatively. He leaned in toward Gojo and whispered, "Excuse me, sir... do you usually get diarrhea after eating here?"
Gojo looked confused, then paused as a realization hit him. "Now that you mention it, yeah. But your food is so good I always forget about the stomach ache by the next morning."
The rest of the group leaned in. Was this a whistle-blower about to reveal some dark secret about the restaurant's hygiene?
"Well," the waiter sighed, "it's because you have white hair and you're easy to recognize. The manager told me to tell you: this is an all-you-can-eat place. No one is going to steal your food. Please stop taking the meat out of the pot before it's actually cooked."
"Pffft—!" Suguru doubled over, clutching his stomach. "Satoru, you absolute idiot!"
"Shut up! Medium-rare is the essence of hotpot!"