Sukuna completely lost his composure.
In a thousand years of existence, he'd encountered people who wanted to kill him, people who wanted to exploit him, and even people who claimed to love him.
But this was the first time anyone had ever pitied him.
Yuji Itadori's inherent kindness was already irritating enough. But that ignorant, arrogant remark—"I think you're pitiful"—sent him into an absolute rage.
The moment Sukuna raised his hand to hurl a Dismantle straight at his face, Yuji snapped his eyes shut.
A second later, he was back in the familiar Jujutsu High dormitory.
"Phew—"
Despite sixty-eight years of accumulated experience, this body was still too weak and untrained. Yuji knew he couldn't defeat a two-finger-strength Sukuna right now.
He'd only gone in to make his intentions clear. Yuji believed that even Sukuna could be redeemed. Unfortunately, in his past life, by the time he finally understood Sukuna's actions and wanted to do something about it, he'd already punched Sukuna out of Fushiguro's body and watched him dissipate on the ground.
If Sukuna could experience the meaning of life through him this time around—turn over a new leaf and become a decent person—Yuji wouldn't be entirely opposed to letting him live.
But that was a matter for the future.
Yuji climbed out of bed. It was nearly midnight when he'd arrived at Jujutsu High. After a quick wash, he went straight to sleep. Training started tomorrow.
Filled with anticipation for what lay ahead, he slept soundly that night.
Early the next morning, Satoru Gojo took him on a tour of the campus, explaining basic jujutsu concepts along the way. Yuji was already thoroughly familiar with all of it, but he played along.
"First of all, ordinary humans can't see or touch curses."
"Let your teacher here explain the grading system for cursed spirits."
Satoru Gojo strolled beside him, tone relaxed.
"Grade 4 cursed spirits—a normal person with a wooden bat can handle them. Grade 3—a handgun will do. Grade 2—a shotgun, barely. Grade 1—even a tank would struggle."
He extended his index finger and twirled it in the air.
"And finally, Special Grade. Carpet bombing with cluster munitions might not solve the problem."
"Of course, all of that assumes conventional weapons can actually hit curses. As for jujutsu sorcerers—since you just enrolled, you're currently ranked Grade 4."
"Normally, a sorcerer needs to defeat a cursed spirit one grade above their own rank to qualify for promotion. For example, you'd need to defeat a Grade 1 curse to be promoted to Grade 2. And so on."
Yuji stood beside him, nodding thoughtfully.
"Ah, I see. But Fushiguro's clearly a Grade 2 sorcerer, right? How come he couldn't beat that Grade 2 curse at my school?"
"..."
Satoru Gojo turned his head in surprise. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"...Well, maybe times have changed. Grade inflation hit the cursed spirits too."
He made an excuse for Megumi first, then fell into contemplation.
Megumi Fushiguro had been raised single-handedly by Satoru Gojo. Much of his jujutsu knowledge came directly from him. But even Gojo couldn't figure out how a genius evaluated as Grade 2 in his first year actually... couldn't beat a Grade 2 cursed spirit.
Is there a problem with my teaching methods?
Satoru Gojo sank into depression.
Was I too soft on Megumi? Not enough training volume? Too few practical combat sessions? No, my explanations are clearly easy to understand—humorous, engaging...
The shameless man pondered.
Eventually, he reached a conclusion.
There was absolutely nothing wrong with his teaching. Megumi Fushiguro was just weak.
At that moment, Sukuna's consciousness stirred, and a small mouth sprouted on Yuji's cheek.
"Heh. An idiot teacher raising trash students. This Yuji Itadori will probably end up just like that Megumi Fushiguro—both of them are garbage."
"Ah—sorry!"
Smack!
The instant Sukuna opened his mouth, Yuji slapped a hand over his cheek to shut him up.
"..."
If Sukuna had mocked Satoru Gojo's personal strength, Gojo would've fired back without hesitation. But questioning his teaching abilities? Under Sukuna's goading, Satoru Gojo's shoulders slumped, his head drooped, and he spiraled into even deeper depression.
"Is it really my fault..."
"Um... Gojo-sensei, it's not you. Don't mind him. I'll go train now."
Sensing disaster, Yuji quickly fled the scene.
Jujutsu High had plenty of training grounds. He decided to start with the basics—after all, his height and weight now were completely different from sixty-eight years in the future. He needed to adapt.
Yuji arrived at a spacious sports field. He looked at his palm, then clenched his fist.
With Blood Manipulation's enhancements and sixty-eight years of combat experience, his current strength should fall somewhere between Grade 2 and Grade 1. Once he fully synchronized with this body, he could probably touch the threshold of Grade 1. That way, if he encountered an ordinary Special Grade curse, he'd at least have a fighting chance.
His only weakness was his cursed energy reserves. High-level techniques like the Reverse Cursed Technique would probably require seven or eight fingers before he could use them freely.
"Hey—pink-haired guy over there!"
The sudden voice was crisp and loud. Yuji looked up and spotted a green-haired woman with a ponytail calling out from the center of the field. She wore red-framed glasses and casually rested a cursed tool katana on her shoulder.
Zenin-senpai? Yuji recognized her instantly.
"Let me introduce myself. Maki Zenin, second-year. Are you the guy Gojo mentioned who ate Sukuna's finger?"
Yuji walked over. They shook hands and exchanged brief introductions.
"Looks like you just enrolled? Still getting your bearings?" Maki asked.
"Not really. Gojo-sensei just finished showing me around. I was planning to train solo for a while."
"That so? I happen to need a sparring partner. Want to go a few rounds?"
Maki's gaze swept over the pink-haired boy, sizing him up.
He didn't look frail, but she clearly wasn't taking a newly enrolled first-year too seriously.
Maki Zenin was a jujutsu sorcerer with a special constitution known as Heavenly Restriction. The cursed energy in her body was nearly zero—no different from an ordinary person. In exchange for that limitation, she'd gained physical abilities far surpassing any normal human.
In other words, both she and Yuji specialized in physical combat. Currently, Maki possessed strength comparable to a Grade 2 sorcerer.
"Sure. Thanks for having me." Yuji's face lit up. A sparring partner would definitely make the training less tedious.
Maki pushed up her glasses, assumed a serious fighting stance, and offered a kind reminder—as if treating him like the innocent junior he appeared to be.
"Fair warning—I hit pretty hard. If it hurts, just yell."
"After all, I'm not the type of senior who bullies first-years on their first day." She laughed.
The setting sun cast golden light across the lawn. Late afternoon had arrived.
BANG—!
CRACK—!
The wooden training sword in Maki's hands snapped on impact. The sheer force sent her tumbling across the grass.
"Hss—ow, ow, ow..."
Her palms were completely numb. She lay on the ground, barely managing to prop herself up.
"Could you maybe hit a little lighter?"
What is up with this guy's strength?! He was supposed to be a fragile first-year, yet Maki couldn't withstand even a few of his full-power punches.
Even a Grade 2 cursed spirit would struggle to block her attacks so easily—yet she couldn't do a thing against the boy in front of her.
"Ah, sorry—are you hurt?"
Yuji quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture.
After an afternoon of adjustment, he'd pretty much synchronized with his body. He'd almost unleashed a Black Flash with that last punch, but fortunately pulled back his cursed energy in time. A tragedy had been narrowly averted.
"I'm not hurt, but..."
Maki gritted her teeth and slammed her fist into the lawn.
THUD!
"?" Yuji looked confused.
"My pride is hurt!"
The senior who'd been acting all cool and composed just minutes ago had been completely overpowered by a single punch from a newly enrolled first-year.
Maki Zenin had originally been the dead last of the Zenin Clan.
Because of her negligible cursed energy, she'd been ostracized and bullied by her own family her entire life. But she'd never accepted that fate. The tables would turn eventually. One day, she was going to prove them all wrong.
That was why she'd come to Jujutsu High. Why she'd spent an entire year honing her physical abilities.
And in the end, the physical prowess she was so proud of... had been effortlessly crushed by a brand-new first-year.
Is hard work really nothing compared to natural talent...?