The weeks leading up to December were a period of deceptive peace. Under Maki's relentless tutelage and my quiet guidance, Yuta was transforming at a startling rate. The raw, untamed power of Rika was no longer a chaotic force he feared, but a wellspring of strength he was learning to draw from with intention and purpose. Our sparring sessions became less one-sided, evolving into complex, dynamic exchanges. He learned to anticipate Maki's ferocious attacks, to understand Toge's clipped commands in the heat of battle, and to coordinate his movements with Panda's brute strength.
Our class, once a collection of isolated and volatile individuals, had been forged into a cohesive and deadly unit. We were a team. We were, in our own strange and fractured way, a family. It was a fragile, beautiful thing, and I cherished every moment of it, for I knew it was a peace that was living on borrowed time.
My own training had reached a frustrating impasse. While my control over the offensive Black and defensive White had become second nature, my Cursed Technique Reversal, Gray, remained elusive. It was a slippery, esoteric power that resisted my will. It refused to create stable matter, and my attempts to manifest phenomena were unpredictable and draining. It was a tool I didn't yet understand how to wield.
I was in one of the indoor training halls late one night, long after the others had gone to bed, staring at a practice drone hovering in the air. I was trying to manifest the simple concept of "a sudden gust of wind" to knock it off course. I focused, pulling on the positive energy of my Reverse Cursed Technique and filtering it through the logic of [Emptiness]. The air shimmered, and a faint, pathetic puff of wind, barely strong enough to stir a napkin, manifested and dissipated uselessly.
I let out a sigh of frustration, slumping down onto the floor. For all my power, all my knowledge, I was still just a teenager struggling with a power that defied easy explanation.
"It's not working because you're trying too hard."
I looked up. Yuta was standing in the doorway, a cup of tea in his hand. He looked hesitant, as if afraid of intruding.
"You're thinking of it like a Cursed Technique," he continued, walking over and sitting down a respectful distance away. "Like Maki's fighting, or Toge-kun's commands. You give an order, and you expect a result." He took a sip of his tea, his eyes thoughtful. "But listening to you… it doesn't sound like that kind of power. You told me to talk to Rika with my intention. What's your intention with… Gray?"
His question, so simple and direct, cut through my frustration. I had been so focused on the effect—the wind, the force—that I had neglected the cause. My intention was unfocused. I was trying to command reality, just as he had once tried to command Rika.
"The technique isn't an attack or a shield," I murmured, a slow realization dawning on me. "It's a rule. A temporary one."
I looked at the drone still hovering in the center of the room. I stood up, my focus shifting. I didn't try to create wind. I didn't try to create a phantom force to strike it. I focused on a simpler, more absolute concept. I looked at the drone and, with my power, I imposed a single, temporary rule onto that specific point in space.
"Movement is impossible."
I whispered the name of my technique, a quiet breath of command. "Gray."
The drone didn't get hit by anything. It didn't explode or fall. It just… stopped. Its rotors, which had been spinning at thousands of RPM, instantly seized. It hung in the air, frozen in place as if encased in invisible cement, the laws of physics momentarily rewritten in its immediate vicinity. After a few seconds, my concentration wavered, the rule I had imposed dissolved, and the now-inactive drone clattered to the floor.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't destructive. But it was absolute. A moment of perfect, conceptual control.
Yuta stared, his eyes wide with awe. "Whoa…"
A genuine, relieved smile touched my lips. "Thank you, Yuta-kun. I think I understand it a little better now."
He smiled back, a shy, proud expression on his face. In that quiet moment, in the shared understanding of our strange and terrible powers, I felt the strength of our bond. He was no longer just a classmate. He was my friend. My partner.
This fragile peace was shattered on the morning of December 24th.
The air was cold and crisp, the sky a brilliant, cloudless winter blue. There was a festive energy around the school, the few remaining staff members preparing for a quiet holiday. We were all in the common room when we felt it.
A single, immense Cursed Energy signature, appearing just outside the school's main gates. It was a signature I had not felt in eight years, but one that was burned into my soul. It was familiar and sickening, like the ghost of a lost limb.
It was Geto Suguru.
We rushed outside to find him standing there, just beyond the torii gate. He was alone. He had changed. He was thinner, his face harder, the youthful kindness completely gone, replaced by the hollowed-out certainty of a zealot. He wore the flowing black robes of a Buddhist priest, a single, thin scar now visible on his forehead. At his side stood Mimiko and Nanako, now solemn-faced teenagers fiercely loyal to their savior.
Satoru and Principal Yaga were already there, confronting him.
"Been a while, Satoru," Geto said, his voice a calm, smooth baritone that sent a shiver down my spine.
"You look like hell, Suguru," Satoru replied, his tone light but his Cursed Energy a raging, barely-contained inferno. "Lose some weight? And what's with the ridiculous outfit?"
"I have found my purpose," Geto said simply, his gaze sweeping over the assembled teachers and students. He looked at us—at Maki, Toge, Panda, and Yuta. His eyes lingered on Yuta, a predatory gleam within them. Then, finally, his gaze settled on me.
The expression on his face was a complex, heartbreaking mixture of pain, sadness, and resolute purpose. It was the look of a man who was about to burn down a bridge with someone he still cared about on the other side.
"I am here to declare war," Geto announced, his voice ringing with power, projecting across the entire school grounds. "This world, ruled by the weak, foolish monkeys, is flawed. It is a cage that forces us, the chosen ones, to suffer. I will set us free. Tonight, at sunset, when the world of the mundane is at its most distracted, I will unleash one thousand Cursed Spirits in the centers of Shinjuku and Kyoto. It will be a night of a hundred demons, a crucible to cleanse this nation and begin the creation of a paradise for sorcerers alone."
He smiled, a cold, beatific expression that did not reach his eyes. His gaze returned to Yuta.
"And to ensure our victory, I will be taking your Cursed Spirit, Yuta Okkotsu. The power of Rika Orimoto is a treasure that is being wasted on you. It belongs with me."
His gaze then found me again, his voice softening almost imperceptibly. "Aki. You of all people should understand. I am doing this for a world where children like you, like them," he gestured to Mimiko and Nanako, "no longer have to suffer. Stay out of this. This war is not for you. This paradise is for you."
The blood pounded in my ears. The world he described, a world born from genocide, was a twisted mockery of everything I had hoped for him. My heart ached for the brother I had lost, but a cold, hard fury rose to meet it.
"The world I deserve," I said, my voice clear and ringing in the tense silence, "doesn't involve you becoming a monster, Suguru-nii."
For a moment, a flicker of genuine pain crossed his face. Then it was gone, replaced by a mask of serene determination.
"So be it," he whispered. He gave Satoru a final, challenging look. "Try and stop me, Satoru. If you can."
And with that, he turned and walked away, his followers melting back into the shadows with him.
The school exploded into a controlled chaos. An emergency meeting was called. Yaga, his face grim, laid out the impossible situation. Geto was attacking the two largest population centers in the country simultaneously. They had to split their forces, sending the bulk of their sorcerers to Shinjuku and Kyoto, leaving Jujutsu High dangerously under-defended.
"It's a feint," I said, speaking up in the crowded meeting room. All eyes turned to me. "Shinjuku, Kyoto… they're distractions. He said it himself. His real target is Rika. He wants Yuta. The real battle will be here."
Satoru nodded, his expression serious for once. "Aki's right. This is where he'll come. But I can't stay. I can handle Shinjuku myself. If I don't go, thousands of people will die." He looked at Yuta, then at the rest of us. "I'm trusting you all to protect the school. Protect each other."
The die was cast. The sun was beginning its slow descent in the winter sky. We, the first-years of Jujutsu High, were left as the last line of defense against an army of a thousand curses and the man who was once the strongest sorcerer in the world, alongside our teacher.
We gathered in the main courtyard as dusk began to fall, the sky turning a bruised purple. We were armed, armored, and ready. Yuta stood at the center of our group, clutching the simple silver ring on his finger, his face pale but his eyes burning with a new, fierce resolve. Maki hefted her spear, Toge pulled down his collar, and Panda cracked his knuckles.
I stood beside them, my gaze fixed on the darkening horizon. My Stygian Eyes saw the faint, ugly lines of Cursed Energy beginning to gather beyond the school's barriers. I had failed to save my brother from his path of damnation. But I would not, under any circumstances, let him destroy the new family I had fought so hard to build. The night was coming. And with it, the war.