"Ah... that's the stuff."
After his daily training, Mirai took the chilled bottle of fresh milk handed to him by Mieko and drained it in a single, satisfying gulp.
Beside him, Satoru was leaning heavily on Shoko for support. His legs were visible trembling, his eyes were rolled back in his head, and he looked entirely drained of his soul.
"You just finished a high-intensity workout and you're immediately chugging a cold drink," Shoko grumbled. "Don't come crying to me when you get diarrhea."
"Hah." Mirai let out a sharp, amused snort.
He turned to look at Satoru. With a sudden, fluid motion, his fingers hooked into the collar of his thin athletic shirt, and he unceremoniously ripped it apart. He revealed a physique of densely corded muscle—symmetrical, powerful, and as flawlessly defined as dragon scales.
"Who do you think I am, Shoko? Not only do I possess the absolute zenith of jujutsu talent and intellect... I have forged this body into a temple! To become the ultimate human, I train without rest!"
Staring at his older brother's physique—which looked as though it had been carved from marble by an ancient Greek master—Satoru's exhausted expression froze. He could feel the sheer, overwhelming physical pressure radiating from Mirai. It was a force capable of shaking the heavens.
Satoru realized a terrifying truth: if Mirai threw a punch without even using cursed energy, and his own Infinity failed... he would die instantly.
Seeing his little brother sufficiently awed by the "Gospel of Muscle," Mirai decided to strike while the iron was hot.
"Satoru, look at us! We are so much alike! We are brothers in blood and in spirit!"
"Behold—the power of a god!"
Without channeling a single spark of cursed energy, Mirai delivered a standing punch directly toward the sky. The sheer air pressure generated by the strike hit a passing crow like a physical hammer; the bird instantly exploded into a mist of blood!
"This power... it's divine!"
Satoru was stunned into a stupor. It had never occurred to him that such an extraordinary feat could be achieved through pure physical strength alone.
"Build your muscles! Believe in your muscles! Love your muscles!" Mirai preached. "Cursed techniques can be countered, and cursed energy can run dry—but your muscles will never betray you! If I can do this now, you can do it too. Because..."
Mirai paused, flashing a brilliant, white-toothed smile. He turned and waved a hand over his shoulder as he walked away, Mieko following silently in his shadow.
"...Because you, Satoru, are a true genius!"
At that moment, Mirai's silhouette blocked out the brilliance of the setting sun. From Satoru's low perspective, his brother seemed to grow infinitely tall, rising until his head touched the heavens.
Boom!
Thunder rolled through the darkening clouds as lightning illuminated the training grounds. A violent storm of inspiration erupted in Satoru's mind. He stood there, brainwashed by the image of his brother's greatness, murmuring those final words over and over: "You, Satoru, are a true genius!"
The Six Eyes glowed with a new, mysterious light. It felt as though his very soul had been unlocked. A confident, feral smile spread across Satoru's face as he reached a sudden enlightenment.
Yes! Like my brother, I possess the ultimate talent! As long as I work hard, I'll become the strongest—and then I can do whatever I want!
He thought about how he had spent years slacking off just because Mirai was so far ahead. He let out a self-deprecating laugh. His eyes snapped toward Shoko.
"Shoko! There's an old saying: 'Train an army for a thousand days to use them for one.' The Gojo clan has supported you for years; now it's time for you to earn your keep!"
"In the name of the Clan Head, I command you: Full-throttle Reverse Cursed Technique! Heal me up!"
Shoko's face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated annoyance. "The sun is already down, Satoru. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I don't care about the time!" Satoru began warming up, performing a shadow-boxing routine that mirrored Mirai's movements perfectly. "My youth will never end! Let's go!"
"I hate this job," Shoko whispered to the sky. "I hate overtime..."
Inside the private bathhouse of the Zenin Patriarch.
Just as it had been eight years ago, Mirai sat while Mieko washed his hair. But the boy from eight years ago was gone. Mirai had grown into a powerful young man, standing half a head taller than Mieko with more growth to come.
And Mieko?
After eight years, she was now over forty years old. Yet, she seemed entirely independent of the river of time. Not a single wrinkle or blemish touched her face. She remained a mature beauty so perfect she didn't seem human.
Only the growing shadow of sorrow deep within her eyes proved that Eternal Youth came with a heavy price.
Her slender hands gently massaged the white foam into his hair. She looked at the strong young man before her, her eyes full of maternal relief.
"Mirai-sama, you'll be enrolling in Tokyo Jujutsu High in a few days. Do you still plan to show your true appearance—the white hair and blue eyes?"
"Of course." Mirai squinted, enjoying her master-level massage. "Ever since that exchange meeting eight years ago, I've used Auntie Mafuyu's request as a convenient excuse to drop the disguise. Why ask now?"
Mieko continued to knead and rub his shoulders. "In the past eight years, you've been concentrated on your training and rarely left the compound. But Jujutsu High is different. The higher-ups are full of different factions and prying eyes. If they discover the truth about your lineage..."
Mirai waved a hand dismissively. "Let them look. It doesn't matter."
"Even if someone is smart enough to figure it out, they wouldn't dare gossip about our two families, let alone confront me. Why? Because I am the strongest."
His tone was matter-of-fact, as calm and chilling as the depths of an abyss. Mieko couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.
"Pfft~ When you put it like that, I suddenly feel the Gojo family were fools for ever sending you away."
"Well... I actually understand why they did it," Mirai mused. "Two paths to heaven lay before them. One was known and full of hope; the other was treacherous and unpredictable. If I were an outsider making the choice, I'd have chosen stability too. When people have everything to lose, they crave the status quo."
He looked back at her and smiled. "Actually, I should thank them. If they hadn't sent me away, I never would have met you, Auntie Mieko."
As the history of the jujutsu world progressed, the teaching of sorcery had become more systematic. To ensure that young sorcerers—both from the Great Families and the common citizenry—received a proper education, the High Schools were established.
At the center of it all was Master Tengen, the authority on barriers and the living history of the jujutsu world.
At Tokyo Jujutsu High, Masamichi Yaga—who had not yet become principal—sat at his desk. He stared at the freshly printed list of incoming first-years, sweat pouring down his forehead.
"You've got to be kidding me..." Yaga sighed, rubbing his temples. "That man is actually enrolling? The 'Strongest' is going back to school? This is a very bad joke."
He pulled out his flip phone and took a photo of the roster. He uploaded it to a private group chat on "Penguin Chat"—a communication app recently acquired and modernized by the Zenin patriarch.
Yaga: These students are far too 'outstanding.' The pressure is immense. I humbly request backup. [Image.jpg]
The chat exploded.
Nanami Kento: [Message Blocked by System Filter]
Haibara Yu: You've got this, Yaga-san! Good luck!
Yuki Tsukumo (Special Grade): Wait, is there a handsome guy in the class? [Nymphomaniac.jpg]
Gakuganji (Kyoto Principal): [DrinkingTea.jpg]
Yaga selectively ignored the chaotic replies. He stood up, a sudden surge of pride washing over him. He was going to be the teacher of the most monstrous class in history.
"Hahahaha! Bring it on!"
A/N: For this week, every 100 Powerstones will get ya'll an extra chapter! Thank you! Please drop reviews guys ^^