It's late afternoon. Most of the others have wandered off. You're wiping down your wooden katana when you hear a soft voice behind you.
"Would you spar with me?"
You turn.
Yuta Okkotsu stands a few steps away.
Not intimidating.
Not challenging.
Just calm.
"I want to understand your rhythm," he adds gently.
Not: I want to test you.
Not: Let's see what you've got.
Just—
Understand.
Your Tenchu mark gives a faint pulse.
Curious.
You nod.
"…Okay."
The Spar Begins Wooden katana in your hand. Yuta also chooses wood. No cursed energy reinforcement. Just skill. He bows lightly. You mirror him. And then— He moves. Not fast. Not flashy. Just precise. His first strike isn't meant to hit. It's meant to measure. You block. Clean. Good angle. But the impact still shocks your arms slightly. He's not overpowering you. He's efficient. Second strike. Lower angle. You pivot. Almost too slow— He adjusts mid-swing. You barely catch it. Your breath tightens. He's not attacking wildly. He's reading you. Every shift of your weight. Every hesitation. Within a minute you realize something. He's not faster than you by a huge margin. He's just… always one thought ahead. You swing. He's already stepping out of the arc.
You feint.
He doesn't bite.
You try a diagonal cut— He lightly taps your wrist.
Not hard.
But clear.
If it were real— You'd be disarmed.
Your jaw tightens. Your mark pulses once. Subtle.
And suddenly—
His movements feel clearer.
Not slower.
Clearer.
Your next block is sharper.
Your stance stabilizes.
You adjust your breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
You attack again—
This time you almost graze his sleeve.
Almost.
Yuta's eyes soften slightly.
There it is.
Adaptation.
Without warning—
He steps in closer.
Closes the distance.
Forces you into short-range exchanges.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Wood against wood.
Your arms burn.
Your shoulders strain.
You miss a step—
He sweeps lightly at your ankle.
You stumble.
But don't fall.
You recover.
Faster than before.
And this time—
You counter.
Your blade slides along his and angles toward his side.
He shifts back just in time.
There's the faintest smile on his face.
"Good."
He stops holding back.
Not fully.
But enough.
His strike comes straight down.
Heavy.
Precise.
You raise your blade to block— Impact vibrates through your bones. Your grip almost breaks. But instead of retreating— You step forward. Slide inside his range. And press your wooden sword toward his torso. For half a second— You both freeze.
Your blade touches his uniform.
His blade rests against your shoulder.
Simultaneous strike.
Silence.
Then—
Yuta lowers his sword first. "You've improved a lot." You're breathing hard. He isn't. That's the difference.
That evening. On the rooftop. Wind light. Satoru Gojo leans against the railing. Yuta stands beside him. Serious now.
"That seal on her," Yuta says quietly.
"It's not ordinary."
Gojo doesn't joke.
Doesn't smile widely.
"…No."
Yuta continues.
"It reacts. Not randomly. It calibrates."
A pause.
"It responded differently to me than to Itadori."
Gojo tilts his head slightly.
"You noticed."
Yuta's voice lowers.
"It's not just power detection. It feels like… balance correction."
Silence stretches.
Wind moves between them.
Then Gojo says something unexpected.
"I want you to train her."
Yuta blinks.
"With the sword?"
"Yeah."
Gojo's tone is casual again.
But his meaning isn't.
"She adapts fast. Too fast."
Another beat.
"If Tenchu is waking up gradually, I'd rather her body keep up with it."
Yuta understands immediately.
"If she relies on it without skill, it'll consume her rhythm."
Gojo smiles faintly.
"Exactly."
After Yuta leaves— Gojo stares at the dark sky. Not amused. Not carefree. Just thoughtful. Grandma Chiyo Ten sealed it. But seals weaken when growth accelerates. And tonight— For the first time, he saw the Tenchu pulse without stress. Not reacting. Learning.
Meanwhile— You sit alone in your room. Arms sore. Mind racing. You lost. But you didn't collapse. And for the first time— You didn't feel protected. You felt trained.
The next day comes quietly but 'no warm-ups'.
Training grounds.
No announcements. No warning. You arrive and stop short. Because it's not just Yuta.
Standing nearby:
Maki Zenin — arms crossed, unimpressed already
Toge Inumaki — watching silently
Panda — grinning
And not far off — Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi pretending not to stare
In the center—
Yuta Okkotsu
Calm.
Serious.
Not the soft sparring version.
The instructor.
Seeing the scene opening in front of her, just one word came to y/n's mind "RUN" bue before she could take back her steps and leave.
Yuta tosses you a real training katana.
Blunt edge.
Balanced weight.
"From now on," he says evenly, "no reacting with Tenchu."
Your mark pulses faintly at the sound of its name.
Yuta continues:
"You will rely on your body first. If the mark moves you before you move yourself, you lose."
Maki smirks.
"Good. Let's see what you've actually got."
"Stance," Yuta says.
You don't know why but not a single word could escape your lips in protest. You adjust but stiff a little.
He steps closer.
"No. Your weight is back-heavy."
He nudges your ankle with his foot.
"Forward 60%. Back 40%."
You shift.
He shakes his head slightly.
"You're bracing for impact instead of preparing to cut."
He taps your wrist.
"Your grip is defensive. That's why Nobara overwhelmed you at first."
You stiffen slightly.
He notices.
But continues.
"This isn't about pride. It's about efficiency."
"Basic diagonal cut."
You swing.
"Again."
You swing.
"Again."
Thirty times.
Fifty.
Your shoulders begin to ache.
"Your elbow flares when you're tired," he says calmly. "That opens your ribs."
He steps in without warning—
His wooden blade stops one inch from your side.
You didn't see him move.
"That's death."
Silence.
Maki's eyes narrow.
She's watching closely now.
"Attack me," Yuta says.
You step in.
Clean strike.
He deflects.
"Again."
You increase speed.
He steps around you effortlessly.
"Again."
Your breathing tightens.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He doesn't overpower you.
He dismantles you.
Your footing slips.
Your blade angles wrong.
Your recovery timing is late by half a second each time. Half a second is lethal. Frustration builds. Your mark pulses. Your perception sharpens. His shoulder shifts before he moves— You block early. Too early. He changes direction mid-swing. Your balance breaks. He lightly sweeps your leg. You hit the ground.
Not hard.
But clean.
Panda whistles.
"Ouch."
Yuta doesn't smile.
"That was Tenchu interfering."
You push up, breathing heavier.
"I didn't mean to."
"I know."
He extends his hand.
You hesitate—
Then take it.
Maki suddenly grabs a staff.
"If you're going to train her," she says flatly, "don't baby her."
She swings at you immediately.
Fast.
Direct.
No warning.
You barely block.
Yuta doesn't stop her.
Instead—
"Good," he says. "Now don't predict. Observe."
Maki's strikes are heavier than Yuta's.
More force.
Less mercy.
You struggle.
Again.
Like with Nobara.
You're half a beat behind.
Your arms shake.
But slowly— You breathe deeper. You stop chasing the mark's pulse. You watch shoulders. Hips. Weight transfer. Maki thrusts— You pivot properly this time.
Counter-cut.
She blocks.
But her eyes sharpen.
"Better."
Yuji: "Whoa… she's getting crushed but not quitting."
Nobara: "That's actual training."
Megumi stays quiet.
But he notices something else.
Tenchu isn't flaring wildly.
It's… restrained.
Contained.
Almost listening.
After an hour of drills—
Your arms are burning.
Your palms are raw.
Breathing uneven.
Yuta steps forward again.
Calm.
Controlled.
"No cursed energy," he reminds you."No Tenchu."
He moves first. Fast. Not explosive — efficient. You block the first strike. Barely. Wood cracks against wood.
Second strike — lower angle. You adjust your footing correctly this time. Good. He sees it.
Third — feint. You don't overreact. Better. Maki's eyes narrow slightly from the side. Then— Yuta increases speed. Not wildly. Just enough. Your perception lags. Half a second. That half second is everything. He pivots behind you.
You turn— Too late.
His wooden blade presses lightly against the back of your neck. Not slammed. Not dramatic. Just placed there. Clinical. Your body freezes. Silence. Even Panda doesn't joke. Yuta's voice is steady behind you.
"You corrected your stance."
A small pause.
"But your recovery window is still slow."
He removes the blade.
Steps back.
"You improved."
Not "good."
Not praise. Just fact. Your chest rises sharply. You weren't close to winning. You weren't close to touching him. But you lasted longer. You adapted under pressure. That's the difference.