The victory at the elementary school was a turning point. It was a small, messy, and deeply terrifying win, but it was a win nonetheless. For Yuta Okkotsu, it was the first time he had faced the monster within him and bent it to his will for the sake of another. The fragile spark of hope I had seen in him began to burn with a steadier, more confident light. For the rest of us, it was the first time we had seen the wielder, not just the curse.
Our days, once a fractured collection of suspicion and hostility, began to coalesce. Maki's training sessions with Yuta became less about bullying and more about forging. She was a relentless, demanding instructor, pushing his physical limits, forcing him to learn footwork and swordsmanship, refusing to let him rely on Rika's overwhelming power as a crutch. "A nuke is useless if your enemy is standing next to you!" she'd shout, rapping him on the knuckles with her wooden sword. "Learn to fight, you crybaby!" It was her own harsh, Zen'in-forged version of tough love.
My role remained one of quiet guidance. While Maki tempered his body, I tried to help him temper his soul. We spent hours in meditation, not to achieve a state of calm, but to help him communicate with the hurricane of love and grief that was Rika. My lessons were not about jujutsu theory, but about empathy and intention. He was learning to see Rika not as a separate, monstrous entity, but as an extension of his own heart, and in doing so, his control grew in leaps and bounds.
The change was palpable. Yuta walked with his shoulders a little less hunched. He spoke in sentences that weren't just apologies. He even began to slowly decipher Toge's onigiri-based language. He was becoming a part of our strange, dysfunctional family. Satoru, in his chaotic wisdom, saw this progress and decided it was time for the next, crucial test.
Maki's attitude underwent the most dramatic shift. Her open contempt for Yuta had evaporated, replaced by a grudging, almost violent respect. The kind of respect a blacksmith has for a chunk of raw, unrefined, but incredibly potent steel. She saw his potential now, and her new mission in life was to hammer him into a proper weapon, whether he liked it or not.
"If you have that much power, then you have no excuse to be a sniveling coward!" she'd bark at him during our morning sparring sessions. "Get up! Again!"
Panda and Toge, for their part, were more openly welcoming. The fear Rika's initial manifestation had inspired was now tempered by the knowledge that Yuta could, in fact, direct it towards a noble purpose. They treated him with a gentle encouragement, Panda often acting as a physical buffer when Maki's training methods became too brutal, and Toge offering a quiet "Salmon" of approval when Yuta managed a successful block.
While Maki focused on his physical combat and Satoru would occasionally appear to offer cryptic, high-level advice, I became his unofficial tutor in the very fundamentals of jujutsu. He was a paradox: a sorcerer with bottomless reserves of Cursed Energy who couldn't perform the most basic act of reinforcement.
I found him one afternoon, sitting alone by the small stream that ran through the school's backwoods. He was holding his cheap katana, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. He was trying to imbue the blade with Cursed Energy, but it wasn't working. I could feel the struggle from twenty feet away. His own energy would begin to flow, but then another, far more powerful and possessive energy—Rika's—would surge and smother it, as if she were a jealous lover refusing to let him touch anything else.
I sat down on the grass beside him without a word. He jumped, startled, then gave me a weak, embarrassed smile.
"I can't do it," he said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Every time I try to channel my energy, Rika-chan… she gets in the way. It's like she doesn't want me to."
"She doesn't," I replied simply. He looked at me, confused. "From her perspective, you don't need a sword. You don't need techniques. You have her. She is your ultimate weapon and your ultimate shield. Why would she let you sharpen a stick when you have a cannon at your back?"
"So what do I do?" he asked, his voice full of frustration. "How am I supposed to fight her will?"
"You don't," I said, picking up a smooth, flat stone from the ground. "You're thinking about this all wrong, Yuta-kun. Satoru-sensei is a genius, but he was born with perfect control. He doesn't understand what it's like to have a power that fights you. I do."
I held the stone in my palm. "My Innate Technique, [Emptiness], is a hungry thing. My offensive power, Black, wants to erase everything it touches. When I was younger, if I didn't concentrate, I'd accidentally unmake my own toys, the food on my plate. If I fought it, if I tried to suppress it with brute force, it would lash out, growing stronger. The trick wasn't to fight it. It was to give it a purpose."
I focused, channeling a thread of my Cursed Energy into the stone. "I had to learn to guide it, to speak to it. I had to convince it that erasing one specific training dummy was more interesting than erasing the whole training ground." I looked at Yuta, my crimson eyes meeting his. "Rika isn't a tool. She's not a Cursed Spirit you can command like Geto-san once did. She is a part of your soul, given monstrous form. You can't command her. You can't fight her. You have to work with her."
He stared at me, listening with an intensity I'd never seen from him before.
"The guilt you feel over her death," I continued, my voice soft but firm, "is a wall between you. You see her as a monster you created. She just sees the boy she loves and wants to protect from everything, including himself. She isn't interfering out of malice. She's interfering out of a possessive, all-consuming love. So stop trying to push her away. Stop trying to command her. And just… ask."
"Ask?" he whispered.
"Talk to her. Not with your mouth. With your heart. With your Cursed Energy. Reach out to her. Include her. Don't just try to pour your energy into the sword. Show her that the sword is a tool for you both. That making it stronger will help you protect others, and in turn, protect the connection you share."
It was a lesson born from my own lonely years of mastering a power that defied simple control. It was about harmony, not domination. It was the only path forward for a boy whose power was literally the ghost of his broken heart.
Yuta closed his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands tightening around the hilt of his sword. I watched, feeling the shift in the air. He wasn't just pushing Cursed Energy anymore. He was reaching out, his emotional state a tangible thing. He was projecting not just power, but intention. An apology. A plea. A promise.
For a long moment, nothing happened. The overwhelming, jealous presence of Rika was still there, a heavy blanket over him. But then, it softened. It didn't disappear, but it… yielded. It was the feeling of a clenched fist slowly uncurling.
A faint, pure blue aura of Cursed Energy flickered to life around the katana's blade. It was weak, unstable, but it was there. And it was his. Rika had allowed it.
Yuta's eyes snapped open, widening in disbelief as he stared at the glowing blade. The aura stabilized, humming with a quiet power. A single tear traced a path down his cheek, followed by another. He wasn't sad. It was a look of pure relief and joy. It was the first time since he had arrived that he had ever felt truly in control.
"I… I did it," he stammered, looking at me, his smile wider and more genuine than any I had ever seen from him.
I offered him a small, rare smile in return. "I told you," I said. "You just had to ask."
That small victory was the cracking of a dam. With the key to his own power finally in his grasp, Yuta's progress was explosive. He spent every waking moment training, and we all bore witness to his meteoric rise. He learned to channel his energy from Rika, not just into his sword, but into his own body, reinforcing it for combat. He began sparring with Maki in earnest, their battles now a clash of a master of weaponry against a raw, unpredictable powerhouse. He learned to understand Toge's onigiri-speak, and he and Panda became fast friends. He was, slowly but surely, becoming one of us.
Our own bond deepened in the quiet moments between training. We were two sides of the same coin: he, the boy with infinite energy and no control; I, the girl with absolute control but finite energy. We understood each other's burdens. Sometimes, Megumi would visit on a weekend, and I would introduce my two quiet, serious friends. The three of us would sit in near-total silence for an hour, perfectly content, a habit that drove the more boisterous Satoru absolutely mad. A fragile, strange, but real sense of hope had begun to bloom in our little corner of the world.
"Alright, team!" he announced, appearing in our classroom one morning by casually phasing through a wall. "Time for another field trip! But this time, we're splitting up."
He pinned two mission files to the board. "Maki, Panda, you're heading to Roppongi. There's a Grade 2 Cursed Womb that's been causing trouble in an old nightclub. Should be a fun smash-and-grab for you two."
He then turned to Toge and Yuta, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You two are going to a shopping district in Harajuku. It's been cordoned off due to a series of mysterious disappearances. Probably a bunch of low-grade riff-raff, but the concentration is high. Your job is to clean it out."
My stomach tightened. Pairing Yuta with Toge was a deliberate, calculated choice. Toge's Cursed Speech was powerful but limited. In a prolonged fight, he was vulnerable. This mission would force Yuta out of his comfort zone, forcing him to rely on a partner he could barely communicate with and to act as a protector, not just a powerhouse.
"What about Aki?" Panda asked, gesturing a paw towards me.
"Aki-chan," Satoru said, slinging an arm around my shoulders, "is staying here with me. We have some advanced, postgraduate-level training to attend to."
I knew what that meant. It wasn't about techniques. It was about the one subject only he and I could truly discuss. It was about Geto Suguru.
As the others departed, Satoru led me not to the training grounds, but to the same quiet engawa where Geto and I once had our lessons. The air was crisp with the approach of winter. For a long time, we just sat in silence, watching the wind rustle the leaves of the maple trees.
"You've done a good job with him," Satoru said finally, his voice surprisingly soft. "Yuta. He's learning faster than I expected."
"He has a strong reason to," I replied, my gaze fixed on a falling red leaf.
"Reasons are important," Satoru mused. He was quiet for another moment, the silence stretching. I knew this wasn't what he had brought me here to talk about. "I got a report this morning," he continued, his tone shifting, losing its warmth. "From one of the clan's contacts in the curse user community. Suguru's been busy."
My hands tightened in my lap.
"He's not just hiding anymore. He's consolidating power. He's absorbing smaller factions, recruiting powerful curse users to his cause. He's building an army, Aki. He's planning something big." He turned his head, and even with the blindfold, I could feel the intense, piercing gaze of the Six Eyes on me. "You were the closest to him, at the end. Did you ever… sense it? This darkness?"
He was probing, testing the lie I had told him eight years ago. He knew something was missing from the story of that night.
I chose my words carefully, weaving a truth that was not the whole truth. "He was just… sad," I said, the memory of his hollowed-out eyes still a fresh wound. "And tired. So incredibly tired. He was tired of swallowing things that tasted like a filthy rag used to wipe up vomit. He was tired of watching his friends die. He was tired of it all meaning nothing."
My answer seemed to satisfy him, or at least, it aligned with his own conclusions. He let out a long, heavy sigh, a sound completely devoid of his usual arrogance. It was the sound of a boy who had been forced to carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, alone.
"I was the strongest," he said, his voice a low murmur. "He was the strongest. We were supposed to be enough. I thought as long as I was here, nothing bad could happen to the people I cared about. I thought that was all it took." He shook his head, a gesture of profound self-recrimination. "It wasn't. I let him drift. I was so caught up in my own power, in being 'Gojo Satoru,' I didn't even see that my best friend was drowning right next to me."
It was a confession, a rare crack in the divine, untouchable facade. A glimpse of the lonely, guilt-ridden boy beneath. He was the strongest, but that strength had become his cage, isolating him from everyone he had ever wanted to protect.
=============
The shopping district in Harajuku was eerily silent. The bright, colorful storefronts were dark, the streets empty, the entire area sealed behind a thick, black curtain. Yuta followed Toge, his hand resting nervously on the hilt of his katana, the strap of the case a comforting weight on his back.
Toge, a seasoned sorcerer despite his age, moved with a quiet confidence, his eyes scanning every shadow. He pointed to a large department store. "Kelp."
"In there?" Yuta asked. Toge nodded.
The moment they stepped inside, the doors slammed shut behind them. The air grew thick and heavy. Curses, dozens of them, began to crawl out of the darkened corners of the store, from behind mannequins and under clothing racks.
Toge was magnificent. He pulled down the collar of his uniform, revealing the snake and fangs sigils on his tongue and cheeks.
"Explode," he commanded, his voice imbued with Cursed Energy. A half-dozen of the smaller curses instantly detonated in puffs of black ash.
"Twist," he said, pointing at a larger, more durable curse. The creature's limbs contorted at impossible angles until it collapsed into a heap.
Yuta watched in awe. Toge was taking out swathes of enemies with single words. But he also noticed the strain. With every command, Toge's posture grew tighter, his breath more ragged.
They fought their way to the top floor, where the Cursed Energy was most concentrated. A massive, semi-Grade 1 spirit, a horrifying amalgamation of consumer greed and envy, was waiting for them. It was far more powerful than the others.
"CRUSH!" Toge roared, unleashing his strongest attack yet. A wave of force slammed into the curse, staggering it, but not destroying it. Toge coughed, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. His throat was reaching its limit.
The curse retaliated, lunging at Toge. Yuta, seeing his classmate in danger, finally snapped into action. He drew his sword, Rika's energy flooding into it, and managed to parry the blow, but the force sent him skidding back.
Toge looked at him, then at the curse, and held up a hand, clearly signaling for Yuta to stand back. He took a deep breath, preparing to use a word so powerful it would almost certainly incapacitate him.
But Yuta remembered my words. A partner. He stepped forward, planting his feet beside Toge. "No," he said, his voice shaking but firm. "Let me help."
Toge looked at him, surprised. Yuta met his gaze, a new, hard-won determination in his eyes. He had to protect his friends. That was the reason he was here. He remembered Aki's advice, reaching out to the ever-present Rika not with a command, but with a request.
Rika… Protect Toge-kun. And please, lend me just enough power for my sword!
"WITH PLEASURE, YUUUUTAAAA!"
Rika's power surged, but it was controlled. It flowed into his blade, a pure, roaring torrent of energy. He charged, not with the wild abandon of before, but with the clumsy, determined footing Maki had drilled into him. He swung the blade, and the blast of Cursed Energy it released was immense, exorcising the great curse in a single, explosive strike.
He had done it. He had protected his friend. He had won a fight on his own terms.
He rushed over to Toge, who was leaning against a wall, coughing. He gave Yuta a weak thumbs-up. "Salmon," he rasped, the word full of a newfound respect.
They returned to Jujutsu High that evening, battered but successful. The four of us met in the common room, Maki and Panda having returned from their own mission. For the first time, we felt like a real class. A team. Yuta, flushed with his victory, was actually smiling. Maki was explaining how she'd used a new Cursed Tool to crush her target. Panda was making jokes. Toge was quietly sipping a throat-soothing tea.
I watched them, a genuine, warm smile on my face. This was good. This was right. We were becoming a family.
And I had no idea that we were simply being forged into the very weapons that would be needed to fight a war none of us knew was just weeks away. In a dark room miles away, a calendar was on a desk. The date was December 1st. And a man with a single stitch across his forehead was methodically circling the 24th. The Night Parade was coming.
===========
In a dark, crowded, and windowless room deep within Tokyo, Geto Suguru sat on a makeshift throne. Mimiko and Nanako, now teenagers themselves, stood faithfully at his sides. Before him knelt a dozen of his most trusted followers.
"The reports are confirmed, Geto-sama," one of them said, his head bowed. "Gojo Satoru has taken in a new student. A boy named Yuta Okkotsu. Our sources say he is haunted by a Special Grade Vengeful Spirit of unprecedented power. A curse named Rika."
Geto was silent for a long moment, his fingers steepled before him. He had spent the last eight years building his new "family," gathering the disenfranchised, the powerful, the hateful. He had been patient. He had been waiting for a weapon, an opportunity powerful enough to finally enact his plan of creating a world for sorcerers alone.
And now, it seemed, that weapon had been delivered to his doorstep.
A slow, cold smile spread across his face. It was a smile that held no warmth, only the chilling certainty of a zealot who believes his moment of destiny has arrived.
"A love so powerful that it defied death to become a curse…" he mused, his voice a low, hypnotic purr. "It is the ultimate expression of jujutsu. The purest form of power. A jewel like that does not belong in the hands of a suicidal brat, being wasted to protect a world of monkeys."
He rose from his chair, his eyes burning with a cold fire. Rika was not just a powerful curse to him. She was the key. With her under his control, his army would be unstoppable.
"No," he continued, his voice resonating with absolute conviction. "She belongs with me. In our new world."
He looked at a map of Japan pinned to the wall, his gaze settling on the location of Jujutsu High. His old home. The place where he had lost everything, and the place where he would now claim his ultimate prize.
"Prepare yourselves," he commanded, his voice echoing in the crowded room. "The sun is setting on this flawed world. On December 24th, we will begin the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons."
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something complex—pain, regret, resolve—flashing within them as he thought of the school, of the friends he had left behind, and of the red-eyed girl who had stood at the precipice of his damnation.
"It's time we paid a visit to my old home."